Saving Wendy
by Liss123
Summary: Five years after Peter left, Wendy is dying. She knows it, her family knows it and even her dog knows it. Her heart is failing, each of its beats numbered. Peter is the only one who can save her. He must take her back to Neverland, where she cannot age, and together they must search for a cure...or a new heart. Will they manage to save Wendy or are they running on borrowed time?
1. Chapter 1: Damaged Hearts

**I started to write this fanfic because Peter Pan was my all-time favourite story as a kid. I was in love with the idea of a boy that could fly and a place where no-one aged. I was heartbroken when Peter returned and left poor Wendy staring out her window after him :'(. This fanfic is about Wendy and Peter meeting again five years later. Please review!**

**Wendy's POV**

I was dying. I knew it, my family knew it and even my dog knew it.

They crowded around my bed silently, each wearing the same defeated, grief-stricken expression that had been in place ever since the doctors had left, little over an hour ago. Mum clutched my hand tightly, as if it was a life-rope somehow keeping me with them. Nana crouched beside her, her large head resting on the edge of the bed. The doctors had given me a week before my heart finally gives out, saying that there was nothing more they could do and how sorry they were. My heart pulsed lethargically in my chest, each of its beats numbered. The silence was thick and heavy, hanging over us like a fog. We all knew that my life had turned into an awful waiting game.

"You'll be alright, Wendy. I promise," vowed Michael, finally breaking the stillness. Fat tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, burning hot trails down his cheeks. Dad encircled him in his thick arms and Michael buried his face into our father's chest, his shoulder shaking with silent sobs. The noise broke my already damaged heart.

"Michael, please don't cry." My throat was thick with emotion. I tried to speak my words as gently as possible. He peeked his head up, a loud sob ripping from his throat. I patted the spot beside me with my free hand. "Come here." He nodded as he pulled himself away from Dad, crawling in beside me. He snuggled as close to my side as humanly possible, knotting his fingers in my shirt as I wrapped my arm around his thin, nine-year-old frame.

John sat motionless on the floor, his back against the bed frame, knees curled up to his chest. He stared without seeing at the timber floorboards beneath his feet, his fingers clenching and unclenching. He had not spoken a word since this morning.

"Can I have a moment with John?" I asked a few minutes later.

John did not even acknowledge the words. Mum nodded, giving my hand one final squeeze before she stood. Dad had a look on his face that said he was scared to leave the room, as if something terrible may happen if I was left alone for even a second. I tried to give his an encouraging smile which he tried to return, failing miserably. Michael released his death grip on my shirt, kissing my cheek before following our parents out of the room.

"Talk to me, John," I said as the door closed behind them.

He finally turned his head and looked at me, his face red and blotchy. "I don't know what to say." His voice cracked on the last word and he clenched his eyes together tightly, fighting for control over his emotions. He was thirteen now and into his gawky teen years where his arms and legs were too long for his body. It was as if a blade sliced at my chest as I thought about how I would never see him grow into a man, watch him fall in love, never witness him marry and have kids of his own. I pushed the thoughts away. They were too painful to dwell on.

"Get up here," I ordered softly. He sniffled before standing. John slid in gently beside me, worried that even the slightest movement of the bed would hurt me. I gripped his shaking hand as tightly as I could. He rested his head on my shoulder. "Let's not talk about it, okay?"

"Okay," he agreed quietly. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Anything," I said. "Something happy."

He was quiet for a moment and I could see him thinking. "It has been five years," he finally said. I knew instantly what he was referring to. "Do you ever think about it-about him?"

I nodded. "All the time," I answered truthfully. It had been five years since I last saw Peter. I hadn't heard from him, not that I expected to. But I had still hoped. In the end though, he had made his choice: he had not been ready to grow up, and I doubted he would be anytime soon-not that I will be around to find out. "I just…I just wished I had seen him one more time."

"So do I-even if he was a bit of a stuck-up bastard." A ghost of a smile touched his lips.

A smile spread across my face and I pretended to gasp in shock. "Mother would belt you if she heard you talking like that."

John gave a naughty grin. "Only if you tell her."

I drew an invisible cross over my chest with my finger. "Cross my heart."

"And hope to die," John whispered, finishing the words I left unsaid. He buried his face into my neck, wrapping his arms around me as tears rolled down his cheeks. "Please don't leave me, Wendy," he begged desperately, as I had a choice in the matter.

My hand came up to gently stroke his brown hair, tucking it behind his ears. "Shh," I soothed as I rocked us gently. "Will I ever truly be truly gone? I will always be watching over you like the annoying big sister that I am." I kissed his forehead, placing one of my hands over his heart. "I will always be in here. Don't ever doubt that. Love you, John."

"I love you too, Wendy." His voice was shaky and breathless. I didn't know how to comfort him-if I even could-so I did the only thing I could think of. I held him as he cried, his tears drenching the collar of my shirt.

**-X-X-X-**

**John's POV**

I stood in the courtyard, desperately trying to hold myself together to no avail. Tears streamed down my cheeks in endless waves. If felt as though I had spent the best part of the last few months crying. I felt helpless and puny. Wendy had always been the mature one, the one who watched over Michael and I. She kept everything in order and running smoothly. Who would do that what when she was gone?

Just thinking about life without Wendy had my heart tearing into two and my stomach lurching painfully, threatening to bring up the little amount I had been forced to eat at lunch.

There was no saving Wendy now; there was no hope left. Her heart would stop beating and she would simply cease to exist. Why did it have to be Wendy? What had she ever done to deserve this? Life was cruel, constantly ripping away loved ones. We are born; we aged; we die. The cycle was simple and blunt-inescapable. What is the point of living only to die? Is there any point to it at all-to growing up?

Growing up.

There was only one person I knew who never aged: Peter. And he was gone, off living his carefree life, no doubt fighting pirates and causing mayhem wherever he went. He didn't have to worry about getting older and someday dying. He was frozen in time…forever.

My head jerked up too quickly, causing my vision to blur momentarily. The idea sparked, causing me to feel stupid for not realising it earlier. If Wendy stopped aging, so would her heart. It would not wither and die.

Wendy. Would. Not. Die.

The same four words raced around my mind over and over again as my legs gave way, sharp pain that I barely noticed shooting through my knees as I slammed into the cement underneath me.

I needed Peter-needed him to save Wendy's life-and he was nowhere in sight. I hadn't seen hide nor hair of him in five years. Five years! He had probably forgotten about us by now, our memory becoming vague and fuzzy.

"Peter!" I screamed into the glistening night sky, feeling more desperate than I had in months.

**-X-X-X-**

**Peter's POV**

I was soaring over the sleeping city of London, the frigid night air biting at my skin. The sun would rise in a few hours' time and the people would wake, beginning their new day. The noise would begin, the traffic would bustle and the feeling of peace would be lost. Right here-as I looked down at the city's lights below me, floating effortlessly above-was the only time I ever felt at peace.

I flew lower. It wasn't the smartest thing to do, but I didn't care.

Earlier today, I had gotten into a fight with the Lost Boys. It hadn't been pretty, resulting in a lot of screaming and throwing of things. In the end, I had stormed out of our hideout in a murderous rage, launching into the sky. I had flown for hours, not caring where I ended up-just wanting to get away. I was surprised when I looked down and realised where I was. I was back in London: the place where it all had started.

Lately, I had found myself thinking about her more than ever. Each time I closed my eye, it was her face I saw. It was her who haunted my dreams. I missed Wendy. I missed her more than I would ever care to admit. I wanted to see her again. Correction: I _had_ to see her again.

_Just one more look_, I told myself. _If I could see her once more, that would be enough. _

My mind made up, I flew across the city, my body seeming to be on autopilot, knowing exactly where to go without having to think. I dropped onto Wendy's roof as quietly as I could, my feet barely making a sound as they touched down. Crouching in the shadow of the chimney, I was completely hidden from view. Light poured from her open second story window, washing onto the empty street below. The night was still, the neighbourhood resting. It was both frightening and exhilarating being back here again. I hadn't checked over the Darling's house for over two years, the last time I had been in London. It felt like a lifetime ago.

Creeping closer to the edge of the roof, I was about to lower myself down onto the window ledge when a heartbreaking sob drifted into my ears. The soft sound was filled with such pain and anguish, I stopped. I scanned around me, looking for the source but finding only shadows. The noise came again from behind, this time louder. Jumping onto the air, I slowly flew to the opposite side of the roof, peering down into the courtyard below. What I saw made my chest constrict.

John Darling was kneeling on the ground, crumpled in on himself. His arms were wrapped around his middle and his shoulders shook uncontrollably as he wept. My mind told me to flee-that he shouldn't know I was here-but I couldn't. The kid looked too broken to leave. Silently, I drifted down until I was standing in the shadows of the house.

"John," I said quietly, trying not to startle him.

He froze, becoming as rigid as a statue. He stood, turning around slowly. Red splotches covered his tear-stained cheeks and his eyes were bloodshot from crying. He had aged a lot in within the years I had been away. He also looked awful, like he was on the brink of a breakdown, his face pinched tight and extremely sad.

"Peter?" John breathed, blinking his eyes repeatedly as if he didn't believe what he was seeing. "Is that you?"

I stepped out of the shadows. "Yes."

Emotions flickered across his face rapidly. Shock. Disbelief. Amazement. Relief. Hope. "You heard me calling for you?" he asked, his voice shaking with barely controlled emotion.

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "No. I was flying over and heard you crying." It wasn't exactly the truth. I took in his blotchy, worn down face. "Are you alright? Is something wrong?" His eyes glassed over and a new wave of tears started falling. A sob ripped its way from his shaking chest as he buried his head in his hands. "John!" I said in alarm, moving towards him.

"It's Wendy," he barely managed to choke out in between sobs. "She's dying."

It felt as though John had poured ice water over my skin. My stomach dropped as if there was a brick inside of it. I staggered back. "No," I gasped. "She can't be."

He stared up at me with destroyed, broken eyes, telling me everything I needed to know. He wasn't lying.

"How?" I demanded, desperate to know.

John told me everything.

The more he talked, the more I fought the urge to cover my ears with my hands and flee-fly to a place where everything was okay. A place where Wendy was healthy. A few times, John had to stop, becoming too upset to speak. He told me about how little over nine months ago, Wendy started experiencing chest pains and how over time, they only worsened. He explained how she had seen a countless number of doctors, each one telling their family the same this: Wendy needed a new heart. John choked out how the waiting list was too long; Wendy would be dead well before a heart was available. By the time he was done, silent tears dampened my own cheeks and I felt numb.

"You have to take her back to Neverland, Peter," he begged. "That's the only way she will survive. She'll be dead in a matter of days if she stays here."

"I know. She is coming with me tonight," I promised.

John clenched his eyes shut, tears leaking out of the corners as he tried to control his breathing. "Thank you," he whispered, reopening his eyes. Hope burned in their depths. "Come on."

John led me through the backdoor and into the dark house. All the lights were out and the place was still. You could practically taste the heartbreak in the air. We crept up the stairs-the second step creaking under out weight-and down a long hallway. John stopped outside the last door, sucking in a deep breath before turned the handle. The door swung open and he gestured for me to walk inside.

"I'll be out here," he told me. I nodded, hesitantly stepping through the doorway, scared at the possibilities of what I might find.

When I saw her, I didn't know if I wanted to pull her into my arms and promise to take care of her or run for the hills. Wendy was asleep, her face smooth and relaxed. The low light from the bedside lamp cast a faint glow over her. She was as pale as a ghost, her cheeks and lips lacking colour. The life was slowly seeping out of her. Rushing over to her bedside, I gently grabbed her shoulders, shaking them as softly as I could. They were thin and bony under my hands-fragile.

"Shh," I whispered as she whimpered softly as she woke. Her eyes flickered open, blinking groggily. Her skin was clammy to the touch, pulled tight across hollow cheeks. The brown hair at the base of her neck was damp with sweat. She was so much older now: almost eighteen. She looked beautiful and awful at the same time.

My heart tightened painfully in my chest as the air left my lungs. Looking at her, I realised with clarity that Wendy was _actually _dying. It felt like a slap in the face. Up until now, I had help a small feather of hope that it wasn't as bad as John had told me, that it was just him over exaggerating because Wendy was his sister. All hope fell away as her eyes landed on me in the dimly lit room.

"Peter?" Her voice was as frail as she looked as her eyes flickered across my face, seemingly trying to comprehend that I was in front of her. "I'm dreaming again," she muttered, almost sadly, blinking quickly as if trying to clear her vision.

I shook my head, saying: "No, you're not. I'm here, Wendy." I reached out and touched one of her hands that rested over her stomach as softly as I could, afraid that the slightest contact would hurt her. She skin was so terribly cold and damp underneath mine.

She pulled her hand away, the movement laboured. "You're not real." Her voice was slightly stronger, holding a hint of finality. Her eyes still didn't leave my face, as if she was scared I would disappear if she looked away for even a moment.

"Listen to me. I'm real. I came back for you, Wendy," I urged her to understand as bent down, pushing a strand of her brown hair behind her ear, my hand coming to rest on her hallow cheek. "I'm going to save you. I promise."

She looked as if she believed me for a moment before her face crumpled, tears prickling in the corners of her eyes. "No one can save me," she breathed the words softly. "I'm hallucinating, or maybe I'm already dead. I'm not sure which. I don't think it even matters."

I winced. It was painful hearing Wendy talk about her death like it was inevitable. I had never heard Wendy sound so defeated…so ready to curl up and let fate have its cruel way with her. "Please don't say that. You're not dead or hallucinating." I cupped her face in my hands, the tips of my fingers trembling ever so slightly. "Feel that? I know you can. I'm here. I'm _real_."

She stared at me with an unwavering gaze for a long, hard moment. "Peter," she finally whispered. This time, the word didn't sound like a question: it was a realisation. "How?" Her shaking arm reached out and gripped my arm with as much strength as she could muster-which wasn't a lot.

"That's not important," I told her. "What is important is getting you better. You're coming with me; I'm taking you to Neverland." She opened her mouth to speak, her face full of confusion and unspoken questions. I cut her off. "You won't age there, Wendy. You won't _die_."

Her mouth formed a perfect circle. "But…"

I shook my head. "No buts. John knows and he will tell your parents. There is no other option. You are not dying, Wendy. I won't allow it."

She looked shock and scared. I wanted to wrap her up into my arms and promise to protect her. But how are you supposed to fight something completely out of your control? "I…I need to see John," she said.

I nodded. "He's in hall. I'll go get him." I walked over and opened the bedroom door, cautiously poking my head out into the hall, making sure he was alone. John was leaning against the wall, his hands in his pocket, shoulders slumped, staring fixatedly at his feet. He looked up, his eyes wet with tear. "Wendy's asking for you."

Without a word, he followed me back into the room, silently shutting the door behind him. The lock click quietly. John rushed to the bed and Wendy engulfed him in her thin arms, her fingertips shaking slightly. He clutched her tightly, as if this was the last time he would ever see her. For his sake, I prayed it wasn't. I stood in the corner of the room, giving them there moment to say their goodbyes.

"I love you, John," Wendy whispered as she pulled back, tucking a piece of his hair behind his ear like he was a small child.

"Don't say it like you're saying goodbye," he told her.

"I'm not. I promise." She wiped away a tear that had fallen down her cheek with the back of her hand. "Tell them-" Her voice broke, cutting off, and she took a moment to collect herself. "Tell them that I love them and will be home as soon as I can."

I could tell she was putting on her bravest face and it broke my heart watching.

John tried to muster a smile but he looked like he was in pain more than anything else. "I will. Just please don't pick a fight with any mermaids, and for heaven's sake, don't get skewered by a pirate. You bleeding out on the deck of a ship is just what we need at the moment."

Wendy gave a weak smile at his attempt at lightening the mood. "But wouldn't it make for an amazing story."

"Just think of the battle scars," he mused with a small grin, his eyes lightening for the first time tonight. He gripped her hand tightly, giving it a squeeze. "Just please…promise to be safe," he said seriously, his eyes full of worry.

She held up a shaking pinkie finger and waited until John wrapped his own around hers. "I promise I will be safe and come home as soon as I can," she assured with absolute conviction.

John nodded, bending over to kiss her cheek before stepping back. He looked over at me and I took it as my cue to take Wendy. I walked over to the bed, pulling the covers back. She was in a loose shirt and pair of baggy pyjama pant. I wanted to cry as I took in her frail body. She was sickly thin-so weak.

"Are you right to stand?" I asked, gulping down the lump that had formed in my throat. I couldn't afford to lose it now.

"If you help me."

I nodded, reaching a hand around her back to gently pull her into a sitting position. I felt each bump in her spine through the thin material of her shirt. I hooked an arm under her knees, twisting her around until she was on the edge of the bed, her bare feet touching the timber floor. I knelt down, my back facing her. Looking over my shoulder I said: "Hop on."

She wrapped her thin arms around my neck and I placed my hands behind both her knees, standing and pulling her onto my back. She hooked her legs around my torso. She was so incredible light, almost as if she was only bag of bones. My hand rested under her thighs, knowing she wouldn't have the strength to hold herself up.

"See you soon," she tried to say lightly to John, who stood motionless from his spot, his eyes never leaving us. He gave a sharp nod, not trusting his voice. His bottom lip quivered and I knew it was time to go. I didn't want Wendy to see him finally break down. She would feel guilty, knowing she was the cause of his pain.

"Hold on," I warned as I ran towards the open window. Her frail arms tightened around my neck and she gasped as I leapt head-first through the window. She buried her head into the crook of my neck and shoulder. I hovered just about the window momentarily, adjusting my grip on her.

John rushing to the window, poking his head out, searching the sky frantically for us as I turned and shot into the heavens, the cold London air whipping past us as I soared above the city and into the night with Wendy wrapped around me like the most precious parcel even carried.

**-X-X-X-**

**Wendy's POV**

The frigid night air flew around us, lashing stands of my hair around my face and into my eyes, causing shivers to rack my body and goose bumps to cover my skin. Peter's grip never wavered, never made it appear that I was too heavy for him to carry. If it wasn't for his hold, I would have fallen ages ago, not having the strength to hold on any longer. My body felt drained and limp. I tucked my head down into his shoulder and closed my eyes tightly, wishing away the wave of dizziness that crashed over me.

I didn't know how long we had flown for, all lights from passing cities disappearing long ago. We flew over the ocean, the only light given from the moon and stars reflecting on the dark water.

On we flew for what felt like hours, never slowing, never stopping.

Finally, under the light of the moon and stars, a familiar island came into view, surrounded by a dark mass of water. A ripple went though both our bodies as we past thought the invisible barriers that surrounded Neverland: the one that prevented anything from aging.

Peter dipped low unexpectedly and I tightened my legs around his waist. He flew down, coasting a foot above the forest trees that covered the island. The sound of waves crashing against the shore and leaves rustling in the wind filled my ears. Ahead, a small clearing came into view, a huge Tule tree standing in the middle. I still recognised it instantly even after all these years.

He dropped to the ground a few meters away from its large trunk, stumbling on his feet slightly. I unhooked my legs and they found the ground, the thick grass soft and lush under my bare feet. Peter turned and grabbed my waist, holding me upright as my legs threatened to give way. He looped one of my arms around his shoulders and supported most of my weight as he helped me stumbled over to the tree.

Now that I could see his face, I noticed how drained he was. His breathing was laboured and a sheen of sweat covered his forehead. His movements were slow and lethargic.

At the tree, he reached out with his free hand until his fingers gripped a piece of bark. With a yank, a door swung open, large enough for us to step though if we bent over. Light drifted out of the hole and voices floated up to us-the sounds of young boys laughing and talking.

With his last remaining strength, Peter hooked his arm under my legs, swinging me up bridal style. My arms were too weak to wrap around his neck and I struggled to keep my eyes open. My body was shutting down, refusing to operate. He ducked his head and shoulders, stepped through the secret door into the tree and into the beam of light as we dropped down into a tunnel.

I heard the hidden door fall shut behind us as Peter skidded on his back down the short, dirt shaft, me on his lap. We broke through into the light, hitting the hard ground. We went sprawling, all the air leaving my lungs in one painful motion as Peter was thrown on top of me. Bright light shone into my eyes, blurring my vision.

The room was quiet for a heartbeat before it broke into chaos, yells and cries filling the air.

"Peter!"

"Who is-"

"Oh my God! It's Wendy!"

"Wendy?"

_"Wendy!"_

Peter thankfully rolled off, groaning as he moved, flopping down onto his back next to me. A small graze marked his cheek. That was all I could make out before my eyelid closed, sucking me into black nothingness.

**Please review and tell me what you think! Did you like it? Did you hate it? :D I'm dying to know. **


	2. Chapter 2: A Pinch of Fairy Dust

**Hey, readers! Here is the next chapter! I apologize in advance. It isn't as long as the first. That is because I am catching a plane to go overseas in a few hours and I only had a short amount of time to write this. I won't get a chance to upload again until I get back which is in one week's time. Anyway, I hope you like the chapter. Feel free to make my day by leaving a review! ;D Tell me what you think about the story so far!**

**John's POV**

I was lying on my back on the plush lounge in our family room, watching the ceiling fan travel in slow, lazy circles as it blew cool air on my face. A sense of relief fell over me for the first time in months. I didn't feel like I was standing by helplessly anymore, doing nothing as each beat of Wendy's heart brought her closer to the end. We had a plan to save Wendy. A plan that _would_ save Wendy. For the first time since Wendy's diagnosis, I felt hopeful.

My eyes started to drift shut as my breathing evened out. I was almost asleep when a splitting scream filled the house, bouncing off the walls and echoing in my ears. My eyes flashed open and I jolted into a sitting position. Heavy footsteps sounded overhead as my father ran down the hallway.

"What's wrong?" I heard him shout.

I knew exactly what was wrong. Bolting from the family room, I hit the staircase at a run, bounding up the steps three at a time.

"Wendy!" Mother's frantic cry filled my ears as I burst through the door to Wendy's bedroom. "She's gone!" Tears were streaming down her face as she looked around the room wildly, as if Wendy would suddenly appear from behind the curtains or crawl out from under the bed.

"What do you mean she's gone? How could she possibly be _gone_?" My father asked, his eyes wide with alarm. Deep lines were etched into the skin around his mouth and forehead. His once bright eyes had been reduced to dull grey orbs. In the last few months, he had seemed to have aged ten years with worry.

"She isn't here. She's not in the house!" Mum cried.

"That is not possible," Father said. "Where could she have gone?"

"I've checked the entire floor. She isn't here!" Mother shriek, worry and desperation cracking her voice. Her hands covered her face and her thin shoulder shook. "She isn't here," she repeated, her words barely above a whisper.

Across from her, my father collapsed onto Wendy's bed, his expression helpless. He looked lost and afraid.

"Mother," I said softly. Walking up to her, I laid a gentle hand on her arm. "Wendy is safe."

Lifting her head, she looked at me through blurred, tear-stained eyes, just noticing I was in the room. "What are you saying, John?" she croaked out, her voice thick.

"Wendy is fine," I told her, trying to keep my tone as calm and reassuring as possible. I felt the pressure of my father's stare boring into me from across the room. "You are right: she isn't in the house. She has been taken somewhere to keep her alive. To stop her from dying."

"What do you mean she has been taken?" she shrilled in alarm, her eyes widening until they resembled saucers.

I held my hands up in a placating gesture. "Everything thing is alright. Trust me," I begged.

Father jumped off the bed, standing quickly. "John, what are you talking about? Tell me where she is this instant!" he demanded. His face was hard as he stared at me.

Just as I opened my mouth to speak, Michael wandered into the room, obviously woken up by all the shouting that was taking place. He rubbed his sleepy eyes with the back of his hand. His raggedy teddy bear was clutched under his arm. Even after all these years, he still had it. "Why is everyone yelling?" he asked, yawning. He looked around the room, his eyes landing on Wendy's empty bed. "Where's Wendy?"

Turning my back on my parents, I walked over, taking his small hand in mine. Crouching down until we were level, I said, "She's gone with Peter."

"Peter?" Michael exclaimed. "Peter was here?"

I nodded. "Yes. He has taken her back to Neverland."

Michael's mouth dropped open into a perfect circle, his face a mixture of shock and wonderment. "Really?"

"John," my father's voice boomed, cutting of whatever I had been about to say. "What are you talking about?!"

Taking a deep breath, I turned to face the fearful eyes of my father. He regarded me as if I was crazy. "You need to take a seat. Both of you," I said.

"What is the meaning of-?"

"Sit," I ordered, interrupting my mother.

Her mouth snapped shut and her eyes widened at my tone. Surprisingly, she didn't yell at me for taking to her that way and moved to sit on the end of Wendy's bed. I suppose she was too shocked and worried to be thinking straight at the moment. Father gave me a cautious look before joining her.

"Do you remember that night the two of you came home and found the three of us raving about a magical place where nobody aged," I began, my hand still in Michael's.

Mother's face twisted in concentration as she thought back. Her face changed into one of confusion as she recalled the night. "Yes," she said, not understanding my point. "We had just gotten home from a party and you children were talking at a million miles an hour about some adventure you had just had. It was something about flying boys and pirates. I told you it was a just a story-that it wasn't real."

"But it was," I said. "Everything we told you was the truth."

My father stared at me as if I was one step away from landing myself in the metal asylum. "It was a story, John. Something you kids made up."

I shook my head, wondering how I would ever get them to believe me. "We didn't make it up, I swear."

"Stop it," Mother said harshly, her face cold. "Stop making up stories and tell us where Wendy is."

"I'm trying to." My tone urged them to believe me. "That night you were out, a boy flew through flew our window, chasing after his shadow. His name was Peter."

"John!" my father barked.

"Listen to me!" I yelled. Rushing on before he could silence me again, I said, "Peter came from a place called Neverland: an island where nobody ever grows up. He sprinkled pixie dust on us and taught us how to fly. Together we flew to the island where we danced with a Native American tribe, met mermaids and defeated pirates." Even the words sounded insane to my own ears.

Mother's eyes filled with tears. "Why are you doing this?" she asked.

My heart pinched at the sight of her crushed face. "I'm not lying to you. It was real. Every last bit," I promised.

She shook her head, tears falling onto her cheeks. "It's not, John. It's not," she sobbed.

"I can prove it," I declared.

My father look at me sadly, his face defeated. "I think the stress of Wendy's ordeal has finally taken its toll on you. Please," he begged softly. "Just stop. You are confused and quite possibly hallucinating."

"Just listen to me. I can prove to you that what I am saying is the truth."

Releasing Michael's hand, I strode over to the dresser, throwing the doors open. Dropping to my knees, I rifled through the mass of fallen clothes that lay on the bottom of the cupboard, searching for the small jar that I knew was here somewhere. Behind me, my mother sobbed, sure I had lost my mind. The sound broke my heart. My finger closed around cool glass. I stepped back, the glass jar clutched in my hand. A tiny amount of gold powder had settled on the bottom, barely as quarter of a teaspoon. It was the remains we had found on the vanity table the morning after we had returned from Neverland, reminding us that the adventure had really happened. I just prayed there was enough.

Unscrewing the lid, I upended the jar over my head. The last few flakes of fairy dust drifted down onto my hair. _Up_, I thought.

Mother let out a shriek as my feet left the floor, nearly falling of the bed. I floated higher and Michael ran over, tugging on my feet. A smile was stretched across his young face.

My father blinked repeatedly, obviously not believing what he was seeing. "H-How can this be real?" he stammered.

"It is all real," I insisted. "Peter has taken Wendy to back to Neverland where she cannot age; therefore, she won't die. They are going to find a cure and then, when she is healthy again, she is coming home."

"See, Mummy," Michael said. "John isn't crazy."

Mother's gaze focussed on me, unwavering. "How?" she breathed as the last of the fairy dust wore off, dropping me to the floor like a bag of rocks.

**Please leave a review and let me know what you think! :D**


	3. Chapter 3: Waking Up

**Hey, guys! Sorry I haven't updated in a few weeks. Things have been really hectic. But I made this chapter longer and hopefully that makes up for it :P Also, I would like to say a giant thankyou to the people who left a review on my previous chapters. Thankyou! Thankyou! Thankyou! Your positive feedback has been AMAZING! I hope you like this chapter. Please leave a review and tell me what you think xx**

**Chapter 3**

**Peter's POV**

I pulled the washcloth out of the bowl of cold water, wringing it out before I wiped in across Wendy's clammy face. Her eyelids fluttered but refused to open. The Lost Boys crowed around my bed, watching Wendy with troubled, anxious eyes. Tink fluttered overhead nervously. I was surprised that she even cared. Last time Wendy had been in Neverland, Tinkerbelle had made her dislike for the other girl quite clear.

Wendy had been unconscious for over a day and a half, barely making a noise. I had refused to leave her side, worried the worst would happen if I was gone for even a moment.

"Wake up, Wendy. Please," I begged quietly as I wiped the washer across her forehead. Her skin was feverous, and she had spent the last eighteen hours alternating between the hot sweats and cold shakes. I was lost; I didn't know what to do. Bring Wendy to Neverland was supposed to save her, not put her into a coma. Why wouldn't she wake up?

I hadn't realised I had talked aloud until one of the twins-I think it was Blinky-spoke. "Bringing her here won't make her better, Peter. Neverland won't heal her. It will just keep her from dying," he said sadly.

"You think I don't know that?" I snapped in frustration, my tone sharper then I intended. I was out of my mind with worry and not thinking straight. Blinky stepped back, casting his eyes downwards. Feeling guilty, I said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I'm just stressed.

He nodded, giving me a weak smile. "I understand."

I couldn't take their sad looks any longer. "Look," I started. "It doesn't seem like Wendy will be waking up any time soon. Tink, why don't you take the boys down to the fishing spot and catch some dinner? You know the place: the one on the other side of the island. Last week, Chief told me they had been getting quite a big haul."

Tink crossed her tiny arms over her chest and pursed her lips, angry at being dismissed. She looked ready to object, but something on my face must have stopped her. Letting out a small huff, she flew over to the door. A few specks of Pixie Dust fell onto the floor in her haste, landing on the mats. The corners of them flicked up for a second before falling back into their original place. Tink swept her arm out in a dramatic gesture, signalling for the boys to get out of the room. I tried to give them a reassuring smile, but I'm pretty sure I failed miserably. Begrudgingly, they filed out, casting me dejected looks as they went. Once they were out of sight, I turned back to Wendy and my pathetic attempt at a smile fell away instantly.

I had heard that people who were in comas could still hear. Maybe Wendy would be able to hear me too. It was worth a try. Grabbing her hot, clammy hand in both of mine, I slowly began to talk.

"Did you know that when I first met you, I thought you were the most prudish, proper girl I had ever met?" I began. "I thought you were little Miss Goodly-two-shoes. I was shocked when you agreed to go to Neverland with me. I knew Tink never liked you, but I have to admit, you grew on me pretty quickly." My thumb rubbed slow circles on the back of her hand.

Wendy's eyelids fluttered and my heart beat overtime in my chest.

"I came to visit you once," I continued, my voice growing softer. "It was about two years after you had gone back home. I missed you terribly, which was odd. I had never missed anyone I had left behind before. I was going to talk to you but I saw you with a boy. You were both standing outside the front door and he leant in to kiss you. Seeing him with you-kissing you-had me wanting to fly down there and rib his head off." A single, harsh laugh pulled its way from my throat. "For the first time in my life, I was jealous. I had no reason to be. You asked me to stay and I didn't. But that didn't change what I was feeling."

Looking down at Wendy, my chest tightened. She had to be okay. She had to be!

Squeezing her hand, I pleaded with her: "Please wake up. I just want to hear you talk again-even if it's to tell me that I'm a complete idiot for going away."

Not knowing what else to say, I fell quiet. My thumb continued to trace patterns on the back of her hand.

Almost an hour passed-although it felt like a lifetime-before her eyelids fluttered again and her lips twitched. Squeezing her hand gently, I waited with baited breath. Her head rolled to the side and her eyes finally opened. They were glassy and out-of-focus, but that didn't matter. She was awake.

When her eyes finally did focused, Wendy pushed away from me, her expression panicked and disorientated. Her fingers trembled slightly as she hugged the blanket to her chest. Her eyes darted around the room, mimicking that of a cornered animal.

Reaching out to place my hand on her cheek, her eyes flickered to my face. "Wendy," I said soothingly. "Wendy, it's okay. I'm here."

Her brown eyes widened as my words sunk in. Hesitantly, she unclenched one of her trembling hands from the blanket, bringing it up to my face. It seemed that she needed to make sure I was surely in front of her. "It's real," she breathed, withdrawing her touch. Wendy looked down at herself, almost in shock. "It's_ all_ real."

Before I knew what was happening, Wendy's arms were around my neck. I was still for a moment-caught off guard-but then my arms were circling around her, pulling her too skinny frame tighter against me. Her head rested in the crook of my shoulder, and for the moment, everything was okay. Wendy was awake and for the moment, she wasn't going anywhere.

**-X-X-X-**

**Wendy's POV**

Peter's arms were solid and reassuring around me-protective. He smelt like fresh air and running water-like the forest that was outside. I didn't want to pull back, but eventually, I did. Looking around me, I realised that I was in Peter's room. More importantly, his bed.

The place still looked the same as I remembered: timber bed frame, a tall cupboard pushed against one wall, a small table with a few random items sitting on top, and a red sheet acting as a door. Sitting back on the bed, my hands fell to my lap, feeling heavy and lethargic. Peter was perched on an old wooden chair that had been pulled over. Shock and confusion washed over me as I saw that he was older than I remembered. A lot older. I had been too out of it earlier to notice the changes. Heck, I had been barely able to keep my eyes open.

_How could he have possibly aged?_

His brown hair was longer, brushing the back of his neck and curling around his ears. Under the thin cotton shirt he wore, his shoulders and chest were broader and stronger. He was taller and had begun to fill out. The youthful softness of his face was gone, having been replaced by a strong jaw and defined cheekbones. He looked handsome and mature. What had my mind fumbling for explanation was the fact that Peter could have easily passed for seventeen.

"How?" I asked instantly.

Understanding what I meant, Peter sat back in his chain, rubbing a hand along his jaw. "I went away for a little bit," he replied, his voice deeper than it ever was before. His reply was vague and answered none of the questions that were running through my mind.

_Where did he go?_

_Why did he leave?_

_How long was he gone for?_

"A little bit?" I sputtered. "Peter, you've aged _years_."

He sighed heavily. "I know."

"Where did you go?"

"Here. There. Everywhere." He gave a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Why?" I asked, prompting further.

"It doesn't matter. I'm back now."

I scowled. Peter was dodging my questions-and quite poorly, I might add. Fine. If he didn't want to talk about it at the moment, then I would drop the subject, but I wasn't letting it go. I would bring it up another time. I felt too weak to argue with him at the moment, anyway.

"Fine," I said.

He visibly relaxed in his chair. "Now," Peter said, his eyes canning my face. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm alright. I feel hazy and tired, but that is normal." I smiled. "And, I'm still alive. That's always a good thing."

The grin Peter returned seemed a little forced. "Yes. That _is_ a good thing."

As I moved, I noticed that my clothes were sticking to my skin from sweat. Touching my hair, I found strands tangled together in clumps. I felt unclean and nasty-and probably smelt just as bad. I could only imagine what I actually looked like. Looking around the room, I teased lightly, "I guess you don't have a bathtub. No indoor plumbing?"

Peter laughed, the action softening his features. "Not at the moment. One of the pipes has busted, but don't worry. The plumbers are coming to fix it next Tuesday."

I chuckled as I pushed the blankets off of me. "Very funny," I said, rolling my eyes good-humouredly. Shifting over to the edge of the bed, I swung my legs down, my bare feet touching to floor.

Peter stood, his face turning serious again. "Are you sure you should try getting up, Wendy? You're still really pale." His eyes were full of concern.

"I'm fine. I need to get cleaned up, though. I feel awful. Can you just…help me stand?"

"Of course," he said. Both of Peter's hands moved to grasp my waist. He gently pulled me up, taking most of my weight. My legs felt weak underneath me and they shook slightly.

"Can you take me to the stream?" I asked, recalling the brook that ran directly across the island.

"I don't think that's smart." Peter's face was concerned, his hands firm. "Why don't you sit back down and I'll go grab you a bowl of water and a cloth?" Peter was looking at me as if I was about to shatter into a million pieces. He was looking at me the same way everyone back in London did: pityingly. I hated that look.

"Peter." I tried to sound firm but I wasn't sure if I succeeded or not. "Stop looking at me like that. I'm not going to suddenly collapse. All I want is to go down to the stream and freshen up. It is not going to kill me."

His face tightened at my last few words. "Wendy, that's not-"

"Please," I begged, cutting him off. His eyes locked with mine. Something in my expression must have made him cave, because when Peter sighed loudly a few moments later, it was a sound of defeat.

"Okay," he agreed, his voice beaten. Cutting me a stern look, he warned, "But, if you end up getting sicker from this, so help me, Wendy…" He trailed off.

"It won't. Stop worrying so much."

"Sit back down while I find you a fresh change of clothes." He gave me a quick onceover. "You and Nibs are about the same size."

I did as Peter said. He didn't looked happy as he shot me one last look before ducking out the door, the curtain flicking as he roughly shoved it aside. Peter returned quickly, a clean shirt and pair of pants in his hands. He handed them to me before sweeping me up into his arms as it I weighed nothing. The unexpected movement caught me off guard.

"I can walk, Peter. You don't have to carry me," I insisted as he made his way through the door again, leading us into the main room of the hideout.

It was the same room we had crashed into some time earlier. A wonky table sat in the centre of the area and six chairs were tucked underneath; each one was different from the next, as if they had been plucked from random places. A book had been placed underneath one of the legs to stop the table from rocking. A dodgy target board had been painted on one wall, a dagger lodged in the outside ring. Thick rugs covered the floor.

Peter laughed once, the sound holding no trace of humour. "Don't lie. You couldn't even stand on your own."

I kept my mouth shut, knowing he was right.

With one last somewhat frustrated look, Peter flew up the tunnel, emerging into the clearing. The mid-afternoon sun beat down on us. I breathed in deeply, sucking in the clean, fresh air. It filled my lungs, making me feel slightly better.

Rising into the air, Peter took off. He darted through the forest, winding around trees and flying over bushes. It was only a few minutes later when the trees began to clear and the sound of running water filled my ears. We broke through onto the edge of a stream. The water appeared to be quite shallow, only about a foot or so deep. A few rocks acted like stepping stones across the water, leading to the other side. Further upstream, I heard the steady rumble of a waterfall.

Peter landed on the water's edge, setting my down gently. He still kept an arm wrapped around my waist, supporting most of my weight. First checking that my legs felt solid underneath me, I gave him a reassuring smile before stepping away from him. My legs didn't give way. I took that as a good sign. Dropping the change of clothes near my feet, I slowly walked into the stream. The water was cool, but thankfully not freezing, as it lapped at my feet. It felt wonderful. My hands went to the hem of my shirt, ready to pull it up and over my head, when I froze.

Looking back over my shoulder, I found Peter still on the edge of the water. His eyes zeroed in on the exposed inch of skin about the tights I wore. Feeling self-conscious, I tugged my shirt back down quickly. He blinked, bringing his eyes back up to my face. I felt my ears heat up.

"I'm fine to bath myself, Peter," I said.

The grin he gave me was both boyish and cheeky. "You could pass out and drown. For your own safety, I think I should stay and supervise."

I rolled my eyes, laughing softly. "I'm sure I'll be fine."

He shrugged. "You never know."

"Goodbye, Peter," I said emphatically.

"It was worth a shot." Grinning, he gestured to the forest behind him. "I guess I'll just…go for a walk or something. Call me when you're done." I nodded and watched him as he walked away. When he had reached the edge of the trees, he turned around, asking, "You'll be right?" He was serious this time.

"Yes, Peter. I will be _fine_," I assured him for what felt like the hundredth time in the last ten minutes.

He disappeared from sight. Once I was sure he was gone, I pulled off my shirt and pants, leaving on my bra and underwear. Wading in the stream until the water reached my calves, I sat down on the sandy bottom. The water felt marvellous against my dirty, sweaty skin. I washed myself as best as I could, scrubbing my hair profusely. Once I felt that I was the cleanest I had in weeks, I moved onto my old clothes. Using my hands, I scrubbed the fabric together, trying to get all of the sweat and grime out of the material. It was tiring work that left my arms feeling heavy and lethargic. A sheen of perspiration broke out across my brow. After what felt like forever, I finally finished. I also was exhausted event though I had practically done nothing.

My legs and arms were shaky as I stood. Moving on wobbly legs, I half walked/half stumbled out of the stream. My head swum with each step and I felt lightheaded. I collapsed onto my hands and knees as soon as I hit the water's edge, my wet clothes tumbling from my grip. I was panting like I had just ran a race and my heart beat erratically. My arms buckled and I hit the ground, falling onto my side. My face pressed into the ground and I felt too weak to move. All I could focus on was my breathing.

Angry, frustrated tears burned the back of my eyes. I hated being this weak. I hated having to rely on people to do things for me that I couldn't no longer do for myself. Most of all, I hated being trapped inside this sick, dying body. Hot tears fell, burning my face and blurring my vision. I bit down on my lip harshly to stop myself from crying like an idiot.

Just then, Peter called out from somewhere nearby. "Wendy, are you done yet? It's been ages."

I didn't want him to see me like this. It would be humiliating. "No," I yelled back. I clenched my eyes shut tightly when my voice cracked.

"Wendy, are you okay?" Peter's voice was full of concern. I heard twigs snap and leaves crunch under his feet and he made his way back in the direction of the stream.

"I'm fine. Now, leave me alone."

Of course he didn't.

Peter burst from the trees moments later, looking around worriedly. His wide eyes fell on me, curled up on the ground. He dropped down beside me and I wished that the ground would open up and swallow me whole. His look of pity and concern had me turning my head away in shame. I was embarrassed-mortified, even-that I couldn't complete a task as simple as washing myself and pulling on a clean change of clothes. I felt pathetic and useless.

"God," he breathed, touching my shoulder. His palm was hot against my skin. I still didn't look at him. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

_Just my pride_, I thought bitterly. I gave a small, single shake of my head. "Go away, Peter," I whispered, my voice pleading.

"Why?" he asked, shocked.

"Because." My voice felt thick, like it was closing up. "I don't want you to see me like this." I clenched my lips tightly together as my eyes prickled with fresh tears.

"Wendy, it's fine" he said, sounding slightly hurt. "_You'll_ be fine."

A harsh, shaky laugh pulled its way out of my throat before I could stop it. "We're not in front of my brothers anymore, Peter. You don't have to lie." The defeated tone of my voice surprised both of us. I sounded like I was ready to roll over and call it quits. In that moment, I sure felt like it.

"I wasn't," Peter retorted quickly. "We will find a cure. I promise." Turning my head, I finally looked at him. His face was pinched tight with worry but his eyes were determination.

I don't know if it was because of my current state or because I as finally away from my family, but I felt like I was finally facing the harsh reality of my condition for the very first time. I felt like a lost cause. I hated the feeling. "Don't make promises you can't keep," I warned sadly.

"I'm not," Peter said with conviction. "Now." His expression turned soft. "Let me help you."

Knowing I was past being able to help myself, I nodded.

To give Peter credit, not once did his eyes wonder and his hands moved with clinical efficiency, never lingering where they shouldn't. Not that my body was anything to look at. My skin was pale and sickly; ribs and hipbones stuck out like I hadn't been fed in weeks. Peter plucked out a few leaves that had tangle with my wet hair and dusted off the dirt on my arms. I guess lying on the ground while wet hadn't been my smartest move.

Once I was fully dressed in Nibs' blue shirt and trousers, Peter picked me up once more.

"I've got a plan…sort of," Peter said, his feet hovering off the ground a foot or two. "Tonight, I'm going to go visit the Indians. They might know something." I felt him shrug. "Maybe they'll help us."

"I'm coming," I said almost automatically.

I could practically feel him roll his eyes. "We'll see," he replied, humouring me.

Closing my eyes, Peter took off back in the direction of the hideout.

**Please leave a review and tell me what you think about this chapter! :D**


	4. Chapter 4: Meeting the In-Laws

**Hey, guys! Sorry it's been over two weeks since I last updated! Please don't kill me! But here is my olive branch: the next chapter ;D I would also like to thank everyone who left a review, followed, faved or read my story! You guys are awesome and all of your amazing review make me feel so loved! MWAH! Please tell me what you think of this chapter also. I'll try to update a lot sooner next time!**

**-X-X-X-**

**Chapter Four**

**Peter**

I was pissed-extremely pissed. I wasn't sure if the feelings were directed at either Wendy or myself. Maybe a bit of both. Wendy was once again in my arms and I was flying across the island. The sun had set and a splattering of stars hung above us, looking as if someone had flung a handful of glitter into the sky. The air was chilly as it whipped around us.

Looking up at me timidly, Wendy gave a small smile. I glared at her. I wished that she was back at the hideout, safely curled up in my bed. She needed her rest; she was sick, for crying out loud. This was a fact that was seemingly unbeknownst to Wendy.

When I had told her that I was going without her, she had thrown a fit, telling me that she_ must_ go as this whole mess was because of her illness. She hadn't taken no for an answer and had grown more heated with each passing minute. Finally, I had sighed in defeat and allowed her to come, only because she had looked so worked up I feared she was about to accidently hurt herself. Also, she had sworn to drag herself to the Indians' camp if she had too. She was almost stubborn enough to do it.

So here I was, flying about the trees and fighting the desire to knock some well-needed sense into the girl in my arms.

As we drew closer to the camp, an orange glow came into view and a powerful, palpitating drum beat filled the air; its rhythm could be felt vibrating through my chest. The sound was like the island's own heartbeat.

_Ba-boom…Ba-boom…Ba-boom._

A nervous feeling coiled itself in my stomach as I saw the camp. The Indians' camp was situated on the edge of a large cliff, overlooking a deep valley below. Tepees formed a loose circle with the largest hut-the Chief's- backing onto the bluff. A large, crackling bonfire burned in the centre, smoke coiling up into the night sky. People danced around the flames while others sat and watched. An old woman sat on a log, the drum placed between her knees. She beat it in a steady rhythm, her movements precise and repetitive. Indian calls filled the air.

Staying hidden in the shadows, I dropped silently down through the trees on the outskirts of their camp. I was thankful that it was night and they hadn't spotted my arrival, too caught up in their dancing and celebrating.

Placing Wendy on her feet, I said quietly, "Keep your mouth shut and let me do all the talking. Chief hasn't been the…warmest towards me lately, and I'm not sure how he will react when I ask for help."

Wendy nodded, looking a little confused. "Why is he not happy with you?" she whispered back, her face only a few inches away from mine.

Shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, I rubbed the back of my neck, not wanting to get into the details.

"Tell me," she urged.

"You see," I began after a moment. "A month or two ago, Chief offered me his daughter's hand in marriage." My mouth screwed up at the idea. There was no way that I would ever want to marry Tiger Lily. The thought of marrying someone had never even crossed my mind.

"What?!" Wendy exclaimed loudly, her eyes widening. I put my hand over her mouth, muffling her voice. She shot me an apologetic look, scanning around to make sure no one had overheard us. "Tiger Lilly?" she asked once I had removed my hand. This time, she was considerably quieter. "You're _engaged_ to Tiger Lily?" Wendy looked like I had just told her I was carrying Captain Hook's unborn child.

"No," I said quickly. "I rejected his offer. That's why he's angry at me. It is a great disrespect not to accept Tiger Lily's hand." Dragging my hands down my face, I groaned. I would be lucky to make it out alive after tonight. "He's going to kill me." But Wendy needed help and I was willing to face down a furious chief and rejected princess for her. Shit, I was screwed.

Surprising me, Wendy let out a short giggle. She silenced it quickly, covering her mouth with her hands. "Sorry," she said, a horrified look on her face.

Here I was, about to walk into an enemy camp where I would most likely be slaughtered, and Wendy was laughing. "It's not funny," I chided, but hearing her laugh again did funny things to my stomach. She looked shocked at herself, as if she couldn't believe that she was laughing. Neither could I.

"You're right," she agreed, fighting to appear serious. It didn't work and she laughed for a second time. "I'm just imagining you in a tuxedo, exchanging vowels. The famous Peter Pan settling down and starting a family. The idea is ludicrous." She chuckled under her breathe, looking directly at me. "I don't think you will ever be ready to grow up, Peter. Young forever, right?"

I tried not to be offended by the way she flippantly cast away the idea of me ever being mature enough to settle down. Although I knew it was justified, Wendy's words still kind of hurt. Giving a curt nod, I looked over at the Indian's camp, focusing on the flickering fire that I saw through the trees. "Any chance that you will wait quietly like a good girl behind the trees?" I asked, knowing it was fruitless.

"No," she said honestly.

"Fine," I grumbled. "Let's go see the chief."

"Time to meet the in-laws," Wendy mused under her breath.

I shot Wendy a sharp look but it went unnoticed by her; she was too busy looking ahead, peering through the trees. I was nervous as hell and needed her to be serious. Things could go downhill quickly with the Indians if I said the wrong thing. I needed to concentrate. My palms were sweaty. God, I was as scared as a twelve year old boy who about to kiss a girl for the first time.

Seeming to sense my unease, Wendy grabbed my hand in hers, smiling reassuringly at me. I tried to return the grin but it felt entirely too forced. "Come on, Peter," she said, tugging my hand. "You don't want to your fiancé waiting, do you?" Wendy sniggered at her own joke, ever the comedian.

In any other situation, I would have most likely laughed, but I had too much riding on this impromptu meeting with Chief. He might have information that could be vital in saving Wendy. "Would you like to high-five yourself while you're at it?" I replied dryly.

She rolled her eyes, muttering softly: "Someone is just a bundle of joys tonight."

Choosing to ignore her comment, I tugged her forward, stepping out of the safety of the trees.

**-X-X-X-**

**Wendy's POV**

As soon as I say Tiger Lily's face, I instantly regretted grabbing hold of Peter's hand. The Indian princess' eyes were alight with a murderous rage. Looking at her, one famous quote came into my mind: _'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.'_

She was sitting next to a robust man who was wearing a headdress made out of black, red and white feathers. I instantly recognised him as the chief. The drum beat died off and people hushed, shooting us surprised, angry looks. No one looked friendly. I felt like I was standing in front of the firing squad, ready for them to gun me down. Peter's hand was sweaty in mine. I hadn't been to the Indian camp since the first time I had been in Neverland, almost five years ago. The mood was considerably different. It felt dangerous…hostile. Peter and I walked into the center of the circle of tents and faced the chief and his daughter. The fire was hot at our backs.

Tiger Lily jumped to her feet, jabbing a hard finger in the direction of Peter's chest. Shock and disbelief coloured her face. "_You_," she spat, her eyes locking onto the boy beside me.

Even in the dull lighting formed by the flames reflecting off her face, it was easy to tell that she was beautiful. Her skin was dark and smooth, looking like melted chocolate. Her thick, black hair was twisted back in an incredibly long and intricate braid. Feathers and beads had been woven through the plait. A fur pelt was thrown over her shoulder. I quickly noticed the small dagger that was sheathed on her thigh. I prayed that she didn't decide to pull it on us.

Her eyes darted between our faces to our joined hands. She raked her eyes over me, her expression distasteful. I felt ugly and inadequate when compared to the princess. With each passing second, her featured became more and more furious. Wisely, Peter pulled his hand from mine before Tiger Lily chose to stab us to death.

"Chief. Princess," Peter addresses, bowing his head respectfully. He shot me a side-long look and I dropped my head also. The chief stood, his face a mixture of shock and anger, much like his daughter.

"How dare you show yourself here," yelled Tiger Lily. Her hand reached for the dagger that was strapped to her thigh. In one quick swipe, the blade was unsheathed and she was stalking towards us, murder in her eyes.

I almost screamed as Peter shoved me behind him roughly, standing between me and the dagger-wielding princess. The edge of the fire pit was only a foot away. My legs were stinging from being so close to the scorching flames. Fisting the back of his shirt tightly, I looked over his shoulder. Stopping in front of us, Tiger Lily raised the dagger, positioning it under Peter's neck. He gulped and his skin touched the blade.

Her expression was cruel and twisted in the firelight. "I should kill you where you stand," she growled. Tiger Lily looked at me and sneered as she pressed the dagger down harder on his neck, drawing thin droplets of blood. Peter flinched and Tiger Lily grinned viciously, enjoying his pain. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't." I could tell that her hand was itching to slit his throat and the thought sickened.

In front of me, Peter was as still as a statue, not moving an inch. "Because," he said as calmly as he could, although his voice wavered slightly. "We seek help."

Tiger Lily's eyes widened before she threw her head back, laughing loudly. Other member of the tribe joined in. Chief remained silent, watching on with calculating eyes.

"And why would I help you?" she asked, looking at Peter in disbelief. "You reject my father's offer then proceed to mock me by bringing your bitch of a bride into my camp. There is no chance on this earth that I would ever lend you my assistance."

Peter's jaw tightened. "Don't call Wendy a bitch." Tiger Lily's eyes hardened, turning cold and violent. I could have hit him. Now was not the time to be defending me, especially when a psychotic princess was holding a knife to his throat.

"Wendy?" Tiger Lily said, looking at me over his shoulder. Her mouth dropped open slightly and I knew that she remembered me. Keeping her hateful eyes firmly fixed on mine, she said: "So this is the reason you refused to marry me, Peter?" Her eyes roamed over my face, making me feel inferior. "I have to say, you can do so much better. Anyway, move aside, Peter. I wish to catch up with dear, old Wendy. We haven't talked in years."

My name sounded like poison in her mouth and all of her words were laced with malice. The fire was painfully hot on the back of my legs, causing me to shift anxiously.

Peter didn't move a muscle. "Over my dead body," he grit out through his teeth.

Tiger Lily's lips twisted in snarl, making even her beautiful features appear ugly and cruel. "Move or I will cut you down." It was a promise of violence.

The more she talked, the more I found myself hating the Indian princess. I wasn't a violent person but I was imagining grabbing her dagger and doing only God knows what to her.

Peter still didn't step aside. Fearing that Tiger Lily would keep true to her word, I stepped across, moving out from behind my human shield. I wouldn't let Peter get hurt because he was protecting me.

The princess grinned triumphantly. "What an obedient girl you have, Peter, coming when I call. She almost acts like a dog." Peter clamped his teeth shut tightly. His eyes were furious. Tiger Lily bent her head in close until her lips were only a few centimetres away from his. For a second, I thought she was going to kiss him. Instead she said: "Is she loyal too? Faithful? Because she looks like a whore to me."

Before anyone could react, Peter lunged, forgetting about the knife at his throat. His hand moved to wrap around her throat, squeezing tightly. Tiger Lily's eyes widened in surprise as she slashed the knife across his vulnerable skin. I screamed as Peter dropped to his knees, one of his hands clutching his throat while the other was palm down on the ground, supporting him. The princess loomed over him. She looked down in disgust, holding the dagger at her side. The edge of it was stained in blood.

Peter's blood.

My hands covered my mouth as he slowly withdrew his hand from his neck. His fingers and palm came away red. As I saw the cut, I wanted to throw up. A thin line ran along the base of his throat, weeping blood. The cut almost looked like a flat. With a shaky hand he grabbed his shirt and pressed the material against the slit. His chest was rising and falling rapidly. Sweat dripped down his forehead.

The chief watched silently, expressionless as his only daughter wiped the blood off her blade. Tiger Lily stepped back, casting a disapproving glance at her dagger. "I guess I wasn't deep enough." My stomach rolled in disgust just as Peter made a horrible gasping noise.

Dropping to his side, I placed a trembling arms around his back. "Peter?" I said frantically.

He didn't respond, his eyes staring blankly in front of him. Blood was starting to seep his shirt. In the glow of the fire, he looked white. The arm supporting most of him weight buckled, causing Peter to fall forward. His shoulder hit the ground first and he rolled onto his back. He stared vacantly up at the starry night sky, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

I lifted his head into my lap, being as gently as I could. He moaned softly, the sound pulling on my heart string. "Peter!" My voice cracked. I sounded frantic. Jerking my head up to look at Tiger Lily, I yelled, "Help him!"

The cruel princess scoffed. "And why would I do that."

"Please!" I begged, not caring how desperate I sounded. Below me, Peter made a strangled, chocking noise. My heart beat rapidly in my chest and my stomach dropped. This couldn't be happening. Peter couldn't be hurt. "I'll do anything, but please, just help him." Despairing tears blurred my vision and began to roll down my cheeks. "Please, just help him."

Tiger Lily looked down at me, her expression deliberating. Finally, she raised a delicate eyebrow. "Anything?" she asked slowly, drawing out the words. She was purposely taking her time, watching as I became more hysterical by the second.

"Yes! Anything!"

She blew out a gust of air as she looked over her shoulder at the chief. "What is your opinion, Father?"

"Heal him," he said, speaking for the first time. His voice was deep and rumbling-laced with authority. "The girl will be indebted to us. You never know when that can come in handy." His words sent a shiver up my back. I knew that whatever their debt would entail, it wouldn't be pretty. But it wasn't like I had any other option.

Tiger Lily nodded, turning her attention back to me. "So it shall be." Raising her hand, she beckoned for someone to come over. "Healer."

I looked in the direction that she was gesturing in and saw an elderly woman stand. She was dressed a heavy, grey cloak that had multiple pockets, both inside and out. Dozens of beaded necklaces hung around her neck in a variety of colours. Unlike Tiger Lily, her face was open and warm looking. There was no malice in her gaze. She walked over and knelt down beside me. Tiger Lily turned her back on us and walked away, heading back over to her father, disinterested.

Cupping Peter's face in one hand, I bushed his hair back off of his sweaty forehead. A tear fell off my chin and dropped onto his cheek. His eye darted to look at me but they were unfocussed and vacant. He tried to speak but the words refused to leave his lips, coming out as an indistinguishable groan. The fingers that clutched his shirt to him neck were pale and shaking. Blood had now started to stain his shirt an awful red colour. As the healer beside me began to search through her endless number of pockets, Peter tried to speak again and failed. I shook my head, more tears flying free.

"I'm so sorry, Peter," I sobbed. My throat felt so thick that I was barely able to get the words out. I stroked his cheek with trembling fingers as tears left hot trails down my face.

The elderly woman finally withdrew her hands from her pockets. Clasped in her finger was a glass jar that contained some sort of greenish paste. As she unscrewed the lid, she looked to me. "Remove his hand. I need to see the cut," the healer said.

I nodded and clasped my hand over Peter's, pulling it away. He didn't fight me, but he yelped in pain when I started to tug his shirt down. Some of the material had started to stick to the wound as the blood clotted. "I'm sorry," I said and tried to pull the material away as painlessly as possible.

Once his slash wound was visible, the woman stuck two fingers into the jar and scooped out some of the green paste. She then proceeded to rub it on the wound, covering it. Peter let out a whimpering noise as her fingers pressed down on his maimed skin. I winced, hating to see him in pain. The paste seemed to dry as soon as it came into contact with his skin. Peter closed his eyes and a heavy sigh was released from his lips. His breathing began to even out.

Once the entire length of the wound had been sealed over, the woman twisted the lid back on the jar and tucked it into one of her many pockets. "The paste is made from the Vendetta flower. It contains healing properties. Even as we speak, it had already begun to reknit his skin back together," she informed. The woman looked at me with kind, almost pitying, eyes. She bent her head in close to mine, whispering quickly: "There is a gypsy who lives in the mountains. Find her. She may offer the help you are seeking."

"Thank you," I said genuinely as she bent back. The healer nodded once and stood, returning to where she had previously sat.

I looked over to where Tiger Lily was seated next to her father. She gazed at me with a look pure hatred. "You are free to leave, whore. The next time we meet, I will be cashing in the debt you owe me."

Wanting nothing more than to get out of this horrible camp, I nodded. Peter lay motionless in my lap and I knew instantly that there was no way that I would be able to carry him. Nudging his shoulder, careful not to pull at his cut, I said: "Peter, open your eyes. We need to get out of here." His response was a small moan and a flutter of the eyelids. "Come on, Peter. I know you're in pain but you need to get up."

I could feel the eyes of the entire tribe on me. It unnerved me and I shook him again, this time a bit harder. His head rolled over the side and his eyes slowly opened, fluttering a few times. They were still foggy and unclear, but at least they were looking at me.

"I'm going to help you stand." He didn't reply as I shifted his head off of my lap. I then secured my arms under both of his armpits. "Okay, Peter, on the count of three I want you to try to stand. I'll help you. One…two…three."

I pulled upwards and Peter groaned as he helped lift himself off of the ground and into a standing position. I was shocked at how heavy he was. It was a struggle but somehow I managed to haul Peter to his feet. His legs wobbled dangerously as I quickly slipped his arm over my shoulder, supporting most of his weight. My knees nearly buckled, threatening to send us both to the ground. Peter's head fell forward in exhaustion and his eyes were barely open.

Panting, I cast one last look at Tiger Lily. She was watching us with a wicked smirk on her face. Her eyes were filled with amusement. On the inside, she was undoubtedly laughing at us.

"Okay, Peter. You have to try walk." I said. "Don't worry, I've got you."

Slowly, he was able to lift one foot in front of the other. His legs were weak and shaky underneath him. He was also incredibly heavy, almost too much weight for me to bare. Gritting my teeth, I wrapped my arm tightly around his waist, doing my best to keep him upright. Inch by painful inch, I was somehow able to drag him away from the camp.

I knew that we wouldn't be able to make it back to the hideout. It was too far away and we were both too weak. There was no way in hell that Peter would be able to fly, even just to get himself. Heck, he was lucky to be alive. My main focus was just to get up both as far away from the camp as I could before we both collapsed.

"That's it, Peter. You can do it," I panted out, tightening my grip around him when his steps faulted.

The light from the camp was just staring to disappear in the trees. The forest ground was rough and uneven, sticks and roots threatening to trip us with each step. We were both drenched in sweat, breathing heavily. My limbs left like they were made of jelly. It seemed as though we had been stumbling through the forest for miles, but if could have only been a few hundred meters.

"Just a bit further," I pleaded. Peter groaned from both pain and exhaustion, but didn't stop walking.

I wasn't sure how much longer we struggled on for. It could have been two minutes or two hours, but finally I couldn't walk one more step. Everywhere ached. I felt completely drained. No longer being able to hold Peter's weight, my knees buckled, sending us both sprawling onto the forest floor. Sticks scraped at my skin but I barely noticed. My eyes closed and I blacked out.

**I seriously want to slap Tiger Lily. Wendy isn't a whore! She's a nice lady ;D **

**Please leave a review and tell me what you think! I love hearing back from you guys!**

**I also have a question. Is anyone else waiting for Wendy and Peter to get together? I know I am. If you are, then don't worry because, as of next chapter, that is what I will be working on :D Again, thanks for reading! Bye xx**


	5. Chapter 5: Hello, Boys

**Hey, guys! Second upload in two day! Sorry, but this one is really short. I really wanted to get this part out before I wrote any more. It is also from one of the Lost Boys POV: Nibs. I hope you like it.**

**Chapter Five**

**Nibs' POV**

Peter and Wendy still hadn't returned and it was almost morning. A bad feeling was starting to form in my stomach but I tried to force it away. Peter would be alright. He could handle anything that thrown at him. He was next to invincible.

At least, that is what I told myself.

Being the oldest-and wisest-of the Lost Boys, I needed to put on a brave face while Peter was away. I wasn't entirely sure how old I was. Maybe twelve? Thirteen? Anyway, it didn't particularly matter in Neverland.

Back in the hideout, some of the boys were beginning to fret. We were all waiting in the main room of the hideout, unable to sleep. Before Peter had left with Wendy, he had seemed off. He had looked extremely worried. Although he had tried to hide this from us, I was able to see right through him.

Peter was scared.

Slightly and Tootles were seated at the table, and I leaning against the wall close by. Tink was perched on top of the wonky cupboard that had been screwed into the wall. It looked like it was going to break off at any moment. Curly, the youngest of the Lost Boys, was looking at me with large, worried eyes. Taking in his wild blonde hair that stuck out in every direction, it was easy to see where he got him name from. He was a tiny little thing with incredibly big, brown eyes. We had guessed that he was only about six.

"Nibs," he said. "They should be back by now."

"I know," I agreed. "But-"

"What if they're hurt?" Marmaduke, one of the twin, interrupted. He and Blinky had been lying on their back on the floor and now sat up. Pushing his black hair back off of his face, Marmaduke looked to his brother. They were both in desperate need of a haircut. And a serious knock to the mouth. You see, the twins had this habit of never knowing when to keep their lips sealed.

"Or worse," Binky said. He turned to look at Curly, who in turn looked terrified. Binky swept his hand over his neck in a cutting motion and made a strangled noise. "Dead."

"Nibs, what if they're dead?!" Curly wailed, running over to clutch my leg. I stumbled slightly as the youngest Lost Boy ploughed into me.

I placed a hand on his back reassuringly as I gave Binky my coldest glare. "Don't be an asshole," I snapped at him.

He glared back. "Shove off. I was just messing with him." Crossing his arms over his chest, Blinky huffed loudly. "Stop being a sook, Curly."

"Knock it off, Binky," Tootles barked form his seat at the table. Binky mumbled a few choice words under his breath that had me wanting to cover Curly's young ears. Flopping down onto his back once again, he stared up at the ceiling angrily.

Tugging on my pants, Curly drew my attention back to him. He looked up at me, saying softly, "Where do you think they are?" The poor fella looked to be on the verge of tears.

Ruffling his messy hair, I pried his arms off of my leg and lifted him up. Curly wrapped his arms around my neck as I carried him over to the table. I sat him down on the edge. "You know Peter," I said lightly with a smile. "He's probably cured up under a tree, asleep at the camp, tired from having danced around the fire all night with the Indians."

Curly nodded, looking as if he was trying to believe me.

"Or he's out fighting pirates," Slightly offered. "Saving Wendy moments before she is forced to walk off the plank!" He pushed his chair back and stood, pretending to lunge at me with his imaginary sword. I laughed as I dodged back, thankful that Slightly was also trying to keep Curly form crying.

"Maybe he's busy sweeping Wendy off of her feet," I said. Swiping my leg out, I knocked Slightly's feet out from under him and he fell to the floor, landing on his butt. Curly let out a childlike giggle and I smiled at him.

"Oh, Peter," Slightly said in a horrible impersonation of Wendy, batting his eyelashes at me. He clutched his to his chest and all but swooned. "I knew you would come back for me."

Curly was cackling like a little madman, so I decide to keep playing along. I dropped to one knee in front of Slightly, taking his hand like I was about to propose to him. "Wendy, my darling, I could never leave you."

Curly jumped down off the table, and walked over to me, a big grin on his young face.

"You guys are idiots," Tootles said, laughing at us.

"You're just jealous you don't have a love like ours," I retorted.

"Yes, that-"

The roof of the hideout exploded. The sound of wood and the ground being ripped apart filled my ears. Curly screamed and I threw him to the ground, covering him with my body as debris fell. Clumps of soil and earth rained down on us, settling on my hair and skin. I clenched my eyes shut tightly as dust and dirt filled the air. I cried out in pain as a large chunk of the tree that had sat directly over our hideout fell onto my back. There was shouting and yelling but I couldn't make out what was being said. All I could think about was the pain in my lower back.

Finally the noise began to recede and only a few handfuls of dirt continued to fall over us. I opened my eyes. Blinky was staring up at me, petrified. His blonde hair and skin was almost completely black from the dirt. To my right, Slightly was curled up in a ball, his hands coving his head. He slowly pulled his arms back, peaking his head out. Blood poured out of his temple as his disorientated eyes connected with mine. I looked around the destroyed room, wincing as I twisted around.

Everything was coated in dirt. I coughed as some flakes coated the inside of my throat as I breathed in. Light from the early morning sun streamed into the room through the caved-in ceiling. I heard the twins groan from under a pile of soil and tree branches. I breathed a sigh of relief. They were both still alive.

Pieces of the overhead tree had been thrown around the room. A large portion of its trunk was now resting on the table where Tootles had been sitting only moments ago. Tootles had thankfully reacted quickly to the explosion and had thrown himself under the table, protecting him from falling objects. Despite from looking alarmed, he appeared unharmed.

The crooked cupboard on the wall had fallen and lied in broken pieces on the floor. A yellow glow flickered and moved around rapidly as Tink struggled to free herself from under the cabinet door. I quickly crawled over to where she was, ignoring the splintering pain in the back. Lifting the wood off her tiny legs, I carefully picked Tink up, hugging her to my chest. She howled in pain.

Multiple loud crunching noises pilled the room, pulling my attention to the center of the room. At least twelve dark figures dropped through the open ceiling, landing on the fallen twigs and debris. They each clutched either swords or pistols. Fear seized me as they regarded us with cruel grins. To my left, I heard Curly whimper.

One stepped forward and surveyed the room with proud satisfaction. His thick coat flicked around him as he walked around the carnage at a leisurely pace, exposing a sword holstered at his waist. The spurs on the back of his boots jingled. The large hat he wore masked his face in shadows, but when he spoke, the hair on my neck rose. I recognised his slow drawl instantly.

"Hello, boys."

**Thank you again for reading another chapter :D Sorry that there was no Wendy and Peter, but that is next. Promise. What did you think about Nibs' POV? Did you like hearing form the Lost Boys perspective? Also, who do you think is the sword bearing, coat and hat wearing new guy? ;D What a difficult question. **


	6. Chapter 6: He's Got Them

**Hey, reader :D Next chapter is up! Woo! And for the people who guessed who the (not-so mysterious) mystery person was, I'm sorry to say that is wasn't Woody or Caption James Cook discovering new land ;D Sorry to disappoint. Also, thanks again for reading and/or reviewing! You guys make my day! Xx **

**Chapter Six**

**Peter's POV**

My eyelids were so heavy it took a few attempts to open them. I winced as bright light shone into them, closing them quickly. Why was it sunny in my underground bedroom?

I felt stiff and sore all over. My bed was hard underneath me and the rough surface pushed into my back.

What the hell? Why was my bed hard? Please don't tell me that the twins had decided to fill my mattress with rocks and sticks again. Just wait till I get my hands on them. I'll kill them this time. That is, after they clean up the mess they undoubtedly made.

As I started to wake up, I realised with start that I wasn't in my bed at the hideout. In fact, I didn't know where I was at all. I was lying on the uneven forest floor at the base of a large tree. Startled, I pushed myself into a sitting position. I cried out in pain as the skin at the base of my neck pinched tightly. Clutching my throat, my eyes widened in shock as I felt something flake off onto my fingers. Pulling my hand away, I saw that they were dotted with flecks of green.

Why was I malting green skin?!

Memories of last night started to fill my mind, blurry and hazy. I couldn't remember anything after…after Tiger Lily had tried to kill me. But how did I manage to get away from the camp, and why aren't I dead?

I was starting to freak out when I saw Wendy passed out on the ground a few feet away to my right. She was sprawled out on her stomach, her head turned to the side, facing me. Scratches covered her arms and legs. She looked as though she had tried to walk through a field of cacti.

Her unmoving state reminded me of when we had crashed into the main room of the hideout and she had passed out. It had taken her almost two full days to wake up. Panic seized me and I crawled over towards her quickly, ignoring the pain in my neck. Kneeling beside her head, I grabbed her shoulders, shaking them.

"Wendy?" Her eyes flickered behind their lids, but she didn't wake. "Wendy!" I repeated, my voice starting to sound frantic. I shook her shoulders harder, desperate for her to open her eyes. She groaned slightly and mumbled under her breath. I could have sighed in relief. "Come on, wake up," I said. My voice was softer this time-less panicked-and I poked her cheek.

She swatted my hand away lazily, groaning something that sounded a lot like "Go away." Cracking a small, relieved smile, I poked her face again. Finally, she blinked a few times and her eyes settled open. As they focused on me, they widened and Wendy's mouth dropped open a fraction.

"Peter!" she squealed, launching herself at me. I tumbled over, landing on my back with Wendy sprawled on my chest, her arms around my neck. I hissed through my teeth as the skin around my neck flared with pain. Wendy, seeing my discomfort, pushed off of my quickly. "God, I'm so sorry, Peter," she apologised, looking at me with a worried expression. I pushed myself into a sitting position. "Are you alright?" Wendy eyed my neck and I found myself subconsciously touching it. More green stuff fell off.

"I'm fine," I told her and she looked relieved for a second before her eyes filled with guilt. Even with leaves in her hair and dirt on her face, she was still one of the prettiest girls that I had ever seen.

"I'm so sorry, Peter," Wendy said again. "I should of done something-said something." I knew instantly that she was referring to last night with the Indians. Biting down on her lip, she looked away, focussing on a small pebble that was near her foot. "I just stood there like an idiot. I didn't even try to talk Tiger Lily down." Wendy shook her head and I watched as a tear slipped down her cheek. "You could have died!"

Frowning, I grabbed her hand. Her eyes flickered up to my face briefly. "Wendy, it's not your fault. I handled the situation pretty badly. I was stupid for letting you come in the first place. I'm just glad that you're alright." One corner of her mouth turned upwards in a sad smile as I looked around us, taking in the trees. "How did you get us out of their alive, anyway?"

Wendy pulled her hand back and scratched her cheek. "A lot of quick thinking," she said.

I raised my eyebrow at her vague answer. "Like what?" I prompted.

"A lot of 'we come in peace' and 'I'm not Peter's new fiancé.'" Wendy gave me a smile but it was strange and forced. Her lips were pinched. "Besides, it doesn't matter. We're fine now."

Something was up. Wendy obviously didn't want to talk about it, which was weird. I nodded, letting the topic drop…for the moment. Scratching at my neck again, I asked, "What is this crap on my neck?"

Wendy's face relaxed a little at my change of subject. "It is some sort of magic flower paste."

"Really?" I said, studying one of the flakes that was on my finger. "It's weird."

Wendy scoffed. "It's amazing. It knitted your skin back together-practically saved your life."

"Anyway, can you help me get it off? It's itching like crazy," I said, rubbing at it again.

Wendy laughed, shaking her head at me. "You're unbelievable, you now that, right?" She stood, offering me a hand. "Come on, I think the stream isn't too far away."

Ten minutes later, I was standing on the water's edge, feeling slightly nervous while Wendy regarded my neck with unwavering eyes. I rubbed the tender skin that she had spent the last five minutes scrubbing at. "How bad is it?" I asked. I wasn't particularly sure if I wanted an answer.

Wendy pursed her lips, seeming to choose her next words carefully. "Well…I've always heard that girls love scars." I rolled my eyes at her. "It's not that bad," she continued. It was obvious that she was lying, or at least sugar-coating it. "I'm serious," Wendy said, seeing my expression. She stepped forward and lightly traced the length of the scar with her index finger, barely brushing my skin. My bloody heart started beating fast in my chest. "It's a straight, pinkish line all the way across."

"Great," I said dryly. "Another one to add to the collection."

"But, hey," she said with a small smile. "It could be worse."

"I know." I could have been _a lot _worse. "Let's head back. I bet the boys are wondering where we are."

**-X-X-X-**

**Wendy's POV**

Before we even broke through into the clearing, I knew something was wrong. No birds were chirping; no small animals were scurrying around in the trees overhead. The only noise was the sound of our footsteps and the rustling of leaves from overhead as the wind blew through them. Other than that, it was dead quiet. An uneasy feeling formed in the pit of my stomach. Peter cast me an uneasy look as he quickened his stride.

Moments later, the trees began to thin and we stepped into the clearing and the hideout came into view. I stumbled over my feet, nearly tripping, as I took in the sight before me.

The ground had been ripped open. A ginormous hole sat where the large tree used to stand. Pieces of the Tule tree lay scattered around the grass, along with large clumps of earth. The boys were nowhere in sight.

Peter broke into a sprint. With my heart in my throat, I chased after him.

Peter skidded to a halt at the edge on the crater. He paused for only a second before he jumped down through the open ceiling, stumbling slightly as he landed with thud. Stopping at the edge of the hole, I clutched my chest. It felt like all of the air had been suck out of my lungs with one swift pull. I couldn't breath. My heart was beating like I had just run a marathon, not less than fifty meters. Bracing my hands on my knees, I struggled to catch my breath. It took a while but finally my heart rate started to return to normal and I was able to get some air into my lungs. Sweat formed on my brow.

Righting myself, I couldn't stop myself from gasping as I looked down at the wreckage below. Everything was laying in tatters and covered in dust. Pieces of furniture had been either upended or thrown around the room. It looks as through a bomb had exploded in the center of the room. I gulped. It had to have been an explosion. Nothing else could have caused this kind of damage.

"Boys!" Peter yelled, his voice filled with panic. "Nibs! Curly!"

There was no reply.

Fear caused my stomach to tighten and my heart beat rapidly in my chest. I prayed that they were alright. Sitting down so my legs were dangling into the hole, I pushed myself over the edge. It was only a fraction of a second before I hit the floor. I lost my balance, nearly face-planting into the ground. Luckily, my hands shot out and stopped my fall. Tree branches and small rocks scratched at my palms as I stood.

"Boys!" Peter yelled again. He pushed his way through the room, looking around frantically.

Dodging around the wreckage, I crossed the room and burst into Peter's bedroom. The wardrobe had fallen onto its side, spilling clothes onto the floor. The chair beside the bed had been knocked over also. "Twins! Slightly!" I called, already knowing that they weren't in here. I quickly checked the other few bedroom, but came to the same conclusion: the boys weren't here.

The knowledge both scared and relieved me. Maybe the boys hadn't been here when the explosion occurred. Maybe they had gotten out safely. These thoughts swirled around my mind as I ran back to the main room. "Peter, they're gone-"

I stopped in my tracks when I saw him. Peter was standing with his back to me, his head hung and shoulders tense. His hands pressed into the wall with enough forces to cause veins to become visible along his arms. My eyes zeroed in on a dagger that was lodged in the wall just above his head. Its hilt was wrapped in what appeared to be red leather. Peter didn't look up as I approached, coming to a stop beside him. Up close, I saw that a long, blonde ringlet was lying across the blade, strategically placed. The ends of the stands were red with blood, clumping them together. My stomach dropped to my feet.

"He's got them," he said, his voice no louder than a whisper. Still, Peter didn't look at me, keeping his eyes trained on the ground.

"Who?" My voice trembled.

"Hook."

I felt like I had been kicked in the stomach. That _monster_ had them. A shiver ran up my spine as I pictured him pulling the boys out of the rumbled after he blew up the hideout.

Reaching up, both of Peter's hands curled around the hilt of the dagger. With one hard thrust, the blade was yanked free, the curl falling to the ground at his feet. He studied the weapon in his hands. "This is mine," Peter said, his voice shaking from either anger or fear. It was most likely both. As he turned to look at me for the first time since I entered the room, bumps rose on my skin. His face was a mask of barely controlled fury. "It was the dagger I used to cut his hand off. Looks like he is finally giving it back." Peter stepped away from the wall, turning his back on me as he strode to the center of the room with sharp, determined steps. He stood directly underneath the hole in the ceiling.

"Peter, where are you going?" I asked, panicked. Ignoring me, he rose into the air, his feet hovering about two feet off of the floor. Running forward quickly, I grabbed the hand that wasn't clutching the dagger. "What are you doing?"

Jerking his hand away, he said shortly, "What does it look like? I'm going after the boys."

"We can't just rush into this, Peter. Come down and let's talk about this for a moment," I pleased. Peter didn't look like himself at all, and if I was to be honest, his demeanour was starting to scare me. He had just had his throat slit and had almost died, and now he looked like he was ready to slay down an army. He wasn't thinking clearly. We both weren't.

"Talk about this?" he yelled. "He's got them, Wendy. He's got them!"

I tried not to flinch at his tone. "I know," I said as calmly as I could, but on the inside I was fighting tears. "We'll get them back. But let's just think for a moment."

"We'll get them back?" he said, repeating my words. "I'm going after them now, Wendy, and you're not coming. No way in hell."

"Peter, listen-"

"No," he snapped, dropping to the ground. He stepped towards me until only a few inches separated our faces. "They're the only family I've got. I'm not leaving then to rot while we talk it over." Peter's voice was beginning to show his desperation and fear as it wavered slightly. He was just as shaken up on the inside as I was.

"I'm not saying that," I argued. "But you just can't go to them. That's what they want. They are waiting for you to turn up."

He shook his head at me. "I don't care. You saw the blood. What if they're hurt? What if-" Peter stopped suddenly, looking away as he swallowed hard. After a moment, he finally said, "I'm not leaving them there waiting."

Bring his hand up to touch my cheek briefly before he stepped back, Peter said, "Stay here. I'll be back before tomorrow morning."

I grabbed the front of his shirt before he could try to take off on me again. "Peter, I'm coming." He wasn't leaving me here while he went off to face Hook. There was no way in Hell. It was too dangerous for him

"Not this time. Not after what happened last night," he said. Placing his hand over mine, he tried to un-knot my fingers from his shirt but I held steady. "Let go."

"No," I said stubbornly, causing Peter's jaw to click shut. His face turned frustrated.

"For God's sake, Wendy! Do you want to get yourself killed? You promised John that you would stay safe," he said heatedly. "What do you think that it would be like if I had to tell him that you're dead? To have to tell your whole family?"

My family. My chest tightened at the thought of them. I could only imagine what my parents had thought when they saw my empty bed. The image of John looking up at us through the window, his face tear stricken, flashed through my mind. I would be dammed if that was the last memory I would have of him.

"But what about you?" I argued. "What if you get killed?"

"I'll be fine. I always am."

I cut him a harsh look. "So that's why you were lying on the ground, bleeding to death last night? That's why you now have a scar that runs the width of your neck? Because you're always fine?"

"I'm still here, aren't I? And, besides, I can't try to rescue the boys if I am constantly worried about you getting skewered," Peter reasoned.

Peter was right. I didn't want him to face the pirates-at least, not alone-but at the same time, the boys' lives could be at risk. We needed to save them, and if that meant me sitting on the side lines then so be it. All I could think about was little Curly and the bloodstained lock of hair.

"Okay." Peter's eyes widened in shock but he recovered quickly, giving me a small nod. "But, if you aren't back by tomorrow morning, I'm coming after you, whether you like it or not," I warned, completely serious.

A small smile played around the corners of his lips at my tone. "Yes, ma'am."

Taking a step back, I released his shirt. "Please don't do anything stupid," I begged.

Catching me completely off-guard, Peter's hand cupped my cheek as he lent forwards and pressed his lips to my forehead. I was so surprised that I couldn't do anything besides stand there in stunned stillness. "Never."

Before I could react, he was gone.

**Sorry that this chapter didn't have any action in it, but sword fighting is definitely on the 'coming soon' list :D Please leave a review and let me know what you think. **


	7. Important! (Kind of)

Hey, guys! Sorry if you thought that this was another update. I haven't been bale to write any more because I've been studying like crazy for my maths test D: Anyway, BE123 pointed out that Wendy running after Peter without getting winded is very unrealistic for someone with her condition (thank you very much for this :D ) and I've just gone back and changed some of the details in that part. It's nothing major, I just wanted to let you know! Hopefully I will be able to post something new in the next few days! :D

Bye! xx


	8. Chapter 7: I'm Not A Good Man

**Hey, guys. Next chapter is up! Sorry that it is really short but I wrote this at 11pm because I really wanted to get someone new up. Anyway, hope you like it :D But before I let you get on with reading, I would like to thank everyone who had read, reviewed or faved/followed my fanfic. You guys are amazing and the lovely reviews make my day! Mwah xo**

**Chapter Seven**

**Nibs' POV**

The monstrous ship rhythmically swayed back and forth as the ocean waves moved underneath its hull. The sun had set hours ago and the air had since chilled considerably. The only light available came from the full moon that hung overhead and about a dozen oil lamps that were placed around the deck of the ship. To the side of the ship, a pirate as leaning against the railing, sharpening his sword. His striped shirt was fraying around the edges and a black bandanna was tied around his bald head. When he saw me watching, he sneered, exposing a mouth that contained only half of his teeth. I looked away quickly. He was the only one in site; the rest were below deck.

My back was pressed against the wooden mast and thick ropes coiled around my upper body, pinning my arms to my side. My butt had gone numb from being forced to sit in the same place for hours on end. The boys were beside me, each of them tied down also. To make matters worse, my nose was itching like crazy.

I was also scared.

No, let me rephrase that.

I was completely and utterly terrified.

Yeah, that's more like it.

Beside me, Curly's stomach growled loudly. "Nibs," he whispered quietly, trying not to draw the attention of the pirate on watch duty. "I'm hungry."

"I know," I said softly. "Try not to think about."

He nodded. "Okay-"

"Oi!" the pirate on guard duty yelled. Startled, Curly let out a shrill shriek. If the ropes weren't in place, he would have jump a foot into the air. "I said no talkin'." His English was choppy and a thick accent covered his words.

"Well, maybe if you gave us some food, we would be quiet," Blinky said rudely. I couldn't see him because he was strapped to the other side of the mast, but if I was next to him and my arms were free, I would have strangled the idiot.

The pirate raised an eyebrow as he stalked forward, sword in hand. He walked past me and around to where Blinky was sitting. "What'd you say?"

"I said," Blinky started loudly, "that I want some food."

"Shut up, Blinky," I snapped. I craned my neck around, trying to get a look at him, but the ropes prevented me from moving much. He was going to get us all killed if he didn't shut his trap.

"What?" Blinky barked. "My ass is numb, I've cold and my stomach is growling like I haven't eaten in weeks. I want something to eat."

That was it. I was going to killed him-that is, if the pirate didn't beat me too it. I fought harder against my bindings even though I knew that it was useless.

"Listen 'ere, punk. One more word an' I'll gut you. I don't care what Captain says," the pirate threatened.

"Whatever," Blinky said. I could practically see the sour look on his stupid face. Just thinking about it made me want to hit him upside the head. Maybe it would knock some sense into him. Probably not. The pirate's steps vibrated the floorboards as he walked away. My sigh of relief was short-lived. The man had just passed me when Blinky muttered, "Dumbass," under his breath loud enough for all of us to hear.

"What'd you say, boy?" the pirate said, stopping in his tracks. His face twisted into a mask of rage as he raised his sword, striding back towards Blinky.

"He said nothing," Marmaduke said urgently from somewhere on the other side of the mast. "I swear he didn't."

"You sayin' I'm hearing things, too?" the pirate snapped.

"No, no," Marmaduke rushed on to say. "I just-"

"I'll teach this one a lesson," the pirate said, cutting him off. I could only assume that he was talking about Blinky. "Cut out your tongue, I will. Like to see you try talk then." From the corner of my eye, the pirate's sword came into view as he raised it up.

"No!" I yelled. "Please don't. He didn't mean it."

"Yeah," Blinky said, his voice shaking. Now, with a sword held over his head, he didn't sound nearly as confident as he did only moments before. "I didn't mean it. I was just kidding." He gave a short, nervous laugh that died off quickly.

"No," the pirate said simply as he brought the sword down.

Blinky screamed, the sound high-pitched and incredibly girly. My stomach dropped to the floor and I jerked against the ropes, desperate to get out. Blinky's sound was cut off as a loud thump vibrated the wooden deck and the sword clattered to the ground, skidding a few meters away. The pirate's limp body came into view as it was kicked out of the road. The man was out cold, his head lolling to the side.

"Peter," Tootles gasped.

What? Peter was here?

"Shh," a voice said quietly, and sure enough, it was Peter's. I heard him begin to cut at the ropes with what I presumed was a dagger or sword of some sort. "Where's Tink?"

"I don't know," Slight admitted sadly. "Hook took her below deck when we arrived."

Peter let out a string of cuss words underneath his breath that would have put even the toughest sailors to shame. The ropes began to loosen around me. "Okay, once I get you boys off, I'll come back for Tink and-?"

The cabin doors were thrown open with enough force that they flung back and hit the walls with a loud crack. Light from the lamps inside flooded onto the deck as at least twenty pirates stormed out, all of them carrying weapons of some sort. They circled around the mask, trapping us. My eyes landed on Hook as he stepped forward. The metal that replaced his left hand caught the light from the lamps.

"You kept us waiting for quite a while," his gravelly voice said. He still wore his hat, completely masking his face in the shadows. If I wasn't terrified, I would have asked why someone was wearing a hat at night.

Slowly, I heard Peter stand and walk around the mask until he was standing in front of me, putting himself between the captain and us boys. A dagger was clutched tightly at his side, his arm rigid. "Sorry, I had some stuff to take care of first."

"If you weren't here by morning, I would have had to give you a little…motivation," Hook said cruelly.

"Is that so?" Peter said dryly. "Good thing that I turned up when I did, isn't it?"

"Indeed." Hook stepped forward. Reaching into his coat, he drew out his sword. It glinted dangerous in the low lighting.

Lifting his dagger, Peter looked around at the crew that had circled around us. By himself, he didn't stand a chance at getting past them. Judging by his rigid stance, he knew that too. "Let the boys go," he ordered. "It's me that you want."

Hook laughed. The sound caused bumps to raise on my arms. "Doesn't someone think highly of themself?"

"Cut the shit," Peter growled. "If you were a real man, you would fight me yourself, instead of kidnapping a six year old."

"But, you see, Peter, I'm not a real man. I'm a pirate. I lie; I thieve; I kill anyone who stands in my way." Hook shook his head. "I'm not a good man. I never have been." He tilted his hat back slightly and I caught sight of his cruel grin. "And, I don't play fair."

Without another word, Hook lunged.

**Ooh, cliff-hanger! *insert evil laugh***

**Please leave a review and tell me what you think of the chapter and story as a whole so far! :D **


	9. Chapter 8: Sending in the A Team

**Hey, guys. I'm apologizing in advance if this chapter is complete and utter crap. My cat passed away unexpectantly last night and because of that my heart isn't in it at the moment. But I wanted to update for those who have been asking. If there are any spelling/grammar mistakes please kindly tell me and I'll fix them. I'll also be reading through it again tomorrow to check anyway. Thanks**

**Chapter Eight **

**Wendy's POV**

I was sitting on Peter's bed, my back pressed up against the wall and my knees pulled up to my chest. A feeling of worry and anxiousness had settled in my stomach ever since Peter had left. The room was looking slightly cleaner after my attempt to tidy it. My 'attempt' consisted of shoving everything that was broken into one corner. My clean freak of mother would have a heart attack if she saw the hideout's condition.

My mother.

Sadness overwhelmed me as I thought about my family. I missed them something shocking. I missed the way Mum would constantly be following after Michael, tidying up the mess he left in his wake; I missed finding John curled up in the window frame, one leg hanging out, as he became completely absorbed in whatever he was reading; I missed the way Dad would ruffle my hair whenever he walked passed me, even though he knew that I hated it; I even missed way that Michael would burst into my room at any ungodly hour of the morning, wanting to show me an insect or some little creature that he had caught.

In short, I simply missed everything about them.

Deciding that I couldn't simply sit here any longer, I climbed off the bed and made my way back into the main room of the hideout. Overhead, soft light was starting to shine through the giant hole in the ceiling. It was almost daybreak.

And Peter still hadn't returned.

I hadn't gotten a wink of sleep last night. Instead, I laid away, staring vacantly at the ceiling as I stopped myself from running after him a thousand different times. But now it was almost morning and I beginning to go out of my mind with worry.

_What if Peter had been captured? What if he and the boys were injured…or worse? What if they were walking back through the forest right at this moment, completely unharmed? _

_Yeah, right._

But it had been hours since he had left. Hours!

No, I wasn't waiting any longer. I couldn't. Staring up at the ruined ceiling, I realised that there was just one problem: I didn't know how to get out. I couldn't jump up-it was entirely too high. I couldn't fly up like Peter had. I couldn't simply close my eyes and picture myself standing on the grass above only to magically appear there.

I fought the urge to scream in frustration. When I had told Peter that I would follow after him and his hadn't argued, he had no doubt known that I would be stuck in the hideout until he came back. Why hadn't I thought of this earlier? I had basically shot myself in the foot.

_Okay, you're a smart girl. You can come up with something, _I told myself, tapping my forehead as it this would force an idea to magically appear. _Think, Wendy, think. _But nothing inspirational and incredibly genius come to me. My mind was blank. Nothing. Nada.

"God dammit!" I yelled, throwing my arms down in anger and frustration. Peter and the boys could be in trouble and here I was struggling to even get out of the hideout. Some backup I made. Fighting desperate tears, I made my way through the debris and pulled out a wonky chair from the table, dusted it off, and took a seat, hanging my head. The table itself was still covered by a large slab of the trunk.

_Wait!_

My head jerked up sharply. The table. I could have kicked myself at the sheer simplicity of it. Standing hastily, I shoved my chair back. It toppled over in my haste. Looking between the table and the hole in the ceiling, I couldn't help but smile. Placing my hands on the section of the trunk, I shoved it off of the table and onto the floor. It landed with a crunch. Next, I grabbed edge of the table and proceeded to pull it across the room. It was tiring work as I had to stop and kick debris out of the way multiple times. The wooden table was also heavier then it looked.

By the time the table was in place, I was sweating and my heart was beating faster than it should have been. I could feel my pulse in my ears. The sun finally broken over the tree tops and soft daylight flooded into the clearing. Hoisting myself up onto the table, I stood directly below the edge of the crater. I stretched my arms above my head and stood on the tips of my toes. My hands were still a good foot away from touching the ceiling. I let out a string of very unladylike swearwords. I tried jumping up but decided against it when the table creaked underneath me.

As I surveyed the room, my eyes landed on the chair that I had previously sat in. Scurrying off of the table and across the room, I picked it up and carried it back over. I lifted the chair up onto the table before hopping back up myself. One of its legs were shorter than the others, causing it to wobble slightly as I stood on it. Biting my lip in unease, I stretch to my full height. I was tall enough now that my chest was level with the ground above. My arms braced themselves on the grass and I let out a squeal of the unstable chair shook underneath me. An image of me falling and breaking my neck entered my mind before I roughly shoved it away.

_Okay, one jump and them haul yourself up_, I told myself. _You can do this. _

_One._

_Two._

_Three-_

I jumped and pushed myself up with my weak arms. My stomach hit the grass and I heard the chair tumbled over. I wiggled my body away from the hole in the ground, breathing hard as I rolled over onto my back, staring up at the blue morning sky. I couldn't contain the small smile that formed on my lips.

_Take that, Peter_, I thought proudly. _Nobody is keeping this girl trapped. _After a few minutes, my heart rate returned to normal and I stood, dusting the grass and dirt off of my clothes.

I had no idea where Hook's ship was so I decided that my best option would be to talk to the beach and make my way around the edge of the island. It would take a while but it was the best option I had.

I scanned the clearing, unsure of which direction I should start walking in. If I went left, I would be walking towards the Indians' camp again-back towards Tiger Lily. That wasn't an option.

Right it was.

**-X-X-X-**

The cool water lapped around my ankles as I made my way along the beach, the sand feeling nice underneath my bare feet. Judging from the overhead sun, it was about mid-afternoon. I had been walking for most of the day, stopping for short breaks when I grew tired. I don't think I had covered even half of the island's circumference. My stomach rumbled loudly. I was hungry as hell and hadn't seen hide nor hair of a ship all day. The overwhelming feeling of hopelessness was growing with each passing minute.

I walked for what had to be close to another hours until I stopped, exhausted and drained. Dragging my feet, I stumbled out of the water and flopped down onto the sand. Throughout the day, I had had plenty of time to come up with a plan for when I found the ship. So far, I had come up with nothing. Okay, that wasn't entirely true. I had one idea, but it was insane and would never work. In fact, it would most likely get me crucified on the spot.

I rested my elbows on my knees and buried my face in my hands. This whole thing-coming to Neverland-was stupid. In the few days that I had been here, I had managed to cause nothing but disaster.

Peter had almost died; the boys had been taken; Peter had gone after then and was now missing also. If he hadn't gone to the Indians to try help me, he would never have been hurt, he would have been there when the hideout exploded, and the poor boys wouldn't have been left defenceless. It was my fault and now I couldn't even find the bloody ship that they were being held captive on. I was completely and utterly useless.

Something sharp swiped at my leg, interrupting my pity party. I jumped in fright. My eyes widened in shock as I took in the small cat that was sitting beside me patiently. A streak of silver on one of its ears marked its otherwise pitch black fur. Its eyes were large and the strangest purple colour I had ever seen. The way they studded me intently had me feeling slightly unnerved.

"Hey, kitty," I said slowly, reaching my hand out. I eyes the animal warily as it nudged its head against my fingers. "Where'd you come from?"

The cat bit my finger and I yelped in surprise. It turned and started walking down the beach. After a few steps, it turned and looked back at me as if to say, "Why aren't you coming?"

Feeling bewildered, I stood and followed. The little animal lead me forward, glancing back every so often. How strange. It only stopped when the beach took a turn to the left some time later. The trees from the forest next to us blocked my view. The cat turned and looked at me one last time before it bolted into the trees, leaving me alone once again.

"Wait!" I yelled after it. "Come back!"

It didn't.

Shaking my head in confusion, I directed my gaze onto the turn in the beach. Not knowing what else to do, I walked around the bend. I froze as my eyes landed on a ginormous pirate ship that was anchored off of the island. Turning around quickly, I looked frantically for the cat, but it was nowhere in sight. Somehow it had led me to the ship and that knowledge scared the crap out of me.

**Thanks for reading. **


	10. Chapter 9: Brains Over Brawn

**Next chapter! Woohoo! I didn't plan on updating today but I thought that I better give you guys something new because you have been so patient. Thank you for the lovely reviews on my last chapter. They made me feel a lot better. Hope you like this one! Please leave a review and tell me. Also, just giving you a heads up that this chapter contains a lot of swearing because we all know that the Lost Boys have filthy mouths. **

**Chapter 9: Brains Over Brawn**

**Peter's POV**

"Do you wanna play a game?" Blinky asked unexpectedly, breaking the silence.

Beside me, Nibs lifted his head and glared heatedly at the other boy. "No, I don't want to play a fucking game, you idiot.

Any other time, I would have got up him for talking like that, but at that moment I couldn't have cared less. The situation called for swearing and bad language.

We had all been taken below deck after my fail attempt of getting the boys back. Apparently it was too dicey to stay above as we were "flight risks" as Hook had put it. My back rested against the timber wall of the cramped cell and my head lolled forward. Everywhere inch of my body hurt and it felt like I was one giant, walking bruise.

I couldn't remember much from last night. All I could recall was leaving Wendy behind, finding the ship, attempting to save the boys, and being surrounded by pirates. The rest was blurry, but if my battered face was anything to go by, the pirates had managed to beat the shit out of me. So fast-forward a day or two and here we were: trapped, bloody, beaten and holding next to no chance of escaping.

Great. Just fucking great.

To make matters worse, I was going out of my mind with worry, terrified that Wendy would do something incredibly stupid, like come after us. If she did, I would personally wring her neck.

"I was just asking," Blinky snapped back at Nibs, his eyes narrowing.

"Why don't you do everyone a favour and just keep your damn mouth shut?" Nibs suggested nastily.

"What's up your ass?"

Nibs looked at Blinky as if he had just said the stupidest thing he had ever heard. "I don't know. Maybe it has something to do with being stuck in a cell on-board a bloody pirate ship!"

Blinky's eyes scanned the room as if just realising where we were. "Really? I hadn't noticed. Thanks for pointing that out," Blinky said sarcastically as he crossed his arms over his chest. "And you call me the dumbass."

Before I could react, Nibs lunged across the small cell and grabbed Blinky by the front of the shirt, throwing him to the floor. He straddled his stomach and spiked his elbow back. I jumped to my feet quickly, ignoring the pain coming from my bruised stomach. Nibs managed to land a good shot on Blinky before Marmaduke and Slightly were able to pull his off.

"You stupid bastard!" Nibs screamed at the wide-eyed twin who was sprawled on the floor with blood dripping from his lip. "I'll kick your ass." He still thrashed against the boys' hold.

I grabbed the back of his shirt, yanking him away as he made another attempt to get at Blinky. "Nib, stop it!" I commanded, shaking him roughly.

"I'll kill him, Peter. I'll kill him," Nibs swore, his eyes never leaving Blinky. "He is such a fucking idiot."

Seeing the rage on the other Lost Boy's face, Blinky wisely stood up and retreated to the opposite side of the cell. "He hit me," he said more to himself than any of us. "He actually hit me."

"I'll do more than that, you little fu-"

I wrapped once arm around Nibs' chest to keep his from lunging at Blinky again while the other covered his mouth. Despite my attempts to muffle his words, we all heard hem clear as day. Until then, I had never known that Nibs had such and…extensive vocabulary.

Little Curly stared at him with eyes that were as wide as saucers. Tootles covered the young boy's ears with his hands. "You don't need to hear that, Curly," he said.

Once Nibs had ran out of either words or breath, he finally stopped, his shoulders sagging slightly. I removed my hand from over his mouth. "I'm calm," he told me, and hesitantly I loosened my hold on him, making sure that he wasn't about to move to strangle Blinky again. He didn't, so I stepped back.

Nibs' eyes flickered to Blinky's busted lip. "Sorry," he grumbled, though we all knew that he didn't mean it in the slightest. The other boy nodded as Nibs pushed away from me and stalked over to the steel bars of the cell. He gripped them tightly. "Hey, you!" he yelled, his voice projecting down the walkway. I eyes Nib's curious, unsure of what he was doing.

A moment later, footsteps sounded and before long, a pirate appeared. He wore a red shirt with a set of white rosary beads strung around his neck. I fought the urge to scoff at him. These men were anything but servants of the Lord.

"What you want?" he said gruffly.

"Can we get some food?" Nibs asked. He looked at the pirate expectantly, who in turn threw his head back and laughed.

"You aint getting nothing but the plank, boy," he told him, flashing his crooked teeth.

"Please," Nibs tried.

The pirate shook his head. "No can do."

"Come on," Nibs whined. "We all know that you are going to kill us. Think of this as our last meal." He gestured to the rosary the man wore. "What would Jesus do?"

Tootles sniggered and the pirate cut him a sharp glare. The unkempt man seemed to straighten. "Well, my great uncle was a priest," he boasted proudly.

"Exactly." Nibs lifted the front of his shirt us, exposing his stomach. "Look, you can practically see my ribs. I'm starving to death. You don't want me to cark it before I get the change to walk the plank, do you?" I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself.

The pirate scratched his stubbily jaw, contemplating. "Well…Captain wouldn't like that."

"No, he wouldn't," agreed Nibs. "Hook will think of you as being intelligent because you are making sure we are kept alive for him. And you look like a smart man." He was really laying it on thick now.

"I am," the man confirmed. His chest seemed to puff up at Nibs' praise. This man really was stupid. "I'll get you some food." The dumb pirate turned and strode away.

As soon of he was out of sight and hearing distance, Nibs turned around. An incredibly smug smirk took up most of his face. He flung his arms out wide and took an exaggerated bow. "And that, boys, is how it is done." Curly clapped loudly like one would at the end of a play. I just rolled my eyes again and laughed.

"Well, isn't someone a smooth talker," Tootles observed with a wicked grin. "If only you were that good with the girls. Oh wait, I believe that one-liner you used on that mermaid last month was pure genius. The way she slapped you practically screamed love at first sight."

Nibs' eyes narrowed. "Piss off. This smooth talker just got you a meal," he said, thumping his own chest.

I sat back down against the wall. My stomach rumbled, reminding me of how long it had been since I had last ate.

A few minutes later, the pirate retuned. In one calloused hand, he held a large plate that was piled high with cold rice and pieces of bread. In his other was a flask that I presumed contained water. He squatted down and slid the dish and thermos under the bars.

"Thank you," Nibs said.

The pirate nodded as he stood. He was about to leave when another man's voice filled the air. "Oi, Coles, where's Captain?"

A dark man jogged into view, coming to a stop next to the first. The first thing I noticed was that he was huge. The man was a skyscraper of pure muscle. His arms were as thick as Curly's waist and were completely covered in tattoos. Multiple silver hoops pierced one of his ears.

"Last I saw him, Dawn, he was in his cabin. Why?" the first pirate-Coles-asked.

The second pirate, who I now knew was called Dawn, glanced at us quickly before speaking. "A girl's been spotted on the shore. The boys brought her aboard and now she's calling for Hook."

My stomach dropped to my feet as all the blood left my face.

**-X-X-X-**

**Wendy's POV**

_This idea had been much smarter in my head_, I thought as the pirate behind me grasped my forearm firmly and walked me along the deck as if I was going to take off at any moment. Didn't he realise that I had boarded the ship willingly? Other unfriendly-looking men watched on with curiosity.

Once I had been lead to the ship by that strange cat, I had faced one slight problem: I didn't know how to get the pirates' attention. I didn't have matches that I could start a fire with. I didn't have a gigantic white flat that I could wave around. I couldn't swim out the ship and attempt to climb aboard-they would probably shook me on sight.

All I had was…absolutely nothing.

So, being the great problem solver that I was, I did the only thing that I was able to think of. I walked into the water until it was up to my calves and kicked, screamed and waved my arms around like a complete idiot. I'm positive that I looked like an absolute nutcase, but it obviously worked because here I was, little over twenty minutes later, being marched towards a set of double doors below the upper deck of the ship.

The boys and Peter were nowhere in sight. My stomach tightened in worry and I silently begged that they were okay. Once outside the doors, the pirate stopped and knocked. He stepped back, shooting me a half-confused, half-suspicious look. Moments later the doors swung open and out stepped the man that had managed to frighten me so profusely the last time I had been in Neverland. I gulped, praying that I was still as good of a story teller that I had been.

If I wasn't, I was as good as dead.

**Please leave a review and tell me what you thought of the chapter! If there are any spelling/grammar mistakes, please kindly tell me and I will fix them. I hope to update in the next few day (fingers crossed that I get time to) and I promise that the next chapter will be longer! Thank you again for reading my story!**


	11. Chapter 10: Family Reunion

**Hey, guys. I didn't get a chance to update any earlier this week. I had too much going on with school! I guess that's what happens when you leave your assignments to the last minute… Anyway, I hope you like. Don't forget to let me know and tell me what you think. **

**I also just want to say thanks to everyone who reads this story and comments/follow/fav. You guys make my day! It's incredible to think that 49 people are following this story! Xx :D **

**Chapter Ten: Call Out To Your Brother**

**Wendy's POV**

My stomach dropped as Hook stared down at me with wary, green eyes. His black hair was cropped short, showing off the silver hoop that adorned one of his ears. Light stubble coated his strong jaw, making his incredibly lovely face seem rugged and…I dare say, sexy. Black tattoos peeked out of the thin, white shirt he wore, swirling up the side of his neck. His black coat was unbuttoned, reaching down past his knees and thick boots covered his feet. An uneasy feeling overcame me as I stared at the hook that sat in place of his left hand. Unlike Peter, he hadn't aged in the time that I had been away and still looked around twenty.

"Who are you and why are you on my ship?" he asked with mild curiosity.

_Well, here goes nothing, _I thought.

I didn't remember much about Hook, but the little I did would sure be coming in handy soon. His birth name was Johnathan Callington. His mother, Helen, was a barmaid in the small village of Lawton; his dad was a pirate and settled down once he found the love of his life. When he was eleven, Hook's mother had an affair and fell pregnant. Enrage, his father left when he found out, taking his only son with him. After the death of his old man, Hook took over the ship.

I only knew the basics, but that hadn't stopped me from wondering what had possessed such a young, handsome man to turn to a life of piracy. Surely, there must be better things out there.

"You don't know how long I've been looking for you, Johnathon," I said. He looked taken back when I used his given name. I suspected that it had been a long time since he had last been called Johnathon.

Hook studied me with interest. "And why is that?" he asked, raising a dark eyebrow.

"I've always wanted to meet my brother."

Hook's eyes instantly widened and he took a step back. The pirate who had marched me across the deck and was now attending closely behind me, gasped. Hook tried to mask his expressions but couldn't. Shock, disbelieve, pain and anger flashed across his features. He seemed at a loss for words.

As I took as steadying breath, I was aware of the other pirates on the deck beginning to come closer, curiously taking in their shell-shocked captain and the stranger across from him. Their eyes bored into the back of my head, but I didn't break eye contact with the man in front of me. "I've come to join your crew," I said, sounding a hell of a lot surer than I felt.

Not hearing the previous part of our conversation, the pirates laughed around me. Hook remained silent, appearing to be trying to wrap his head around the lies I had just told him.

"A woman on the ship!" one of the pirates roared mockingly. I didn't look around to see who it was. In all honesty, I was too scared to.

"She's got to be kidding," another yelled.

"Send her off the plank," a third suggested. The men voiced their agreement and I felt myself begin to panic.

No, this wasn't how it was supposed to happen!

I felt them close in around me until they surrounded us. Most grinned wickedly, causing my stomach to churn. One made a grab for my arm, and I let out a yelp, jerking away. That only moved me closer to another. I cried out in shock and terror as strong arms circled my waist. My back was pushed against a broad chest. Terror seized me.

"Wait," Hook ordered firmly. He didn't raise his voice but the pirates listened instantly.

Most turned to look at him and the steel-like arms that were around me loosened. I pushed out of them instantly, stumbling forward. My heart was racing at a million miles an hour and my chest rose and fell rapidly as I returned my gaze to Hook. A giant coloured man now stood beside him. Unlike the other pirates, he didn't look at me with malice, only curiosity.

"Follow me," Hook said to me, jerking his chin in the direction of the double set of doors that stood behind him. His voice conveyed no emotion, and he didn't wait for me as he turned and pushed through them.

I had two choices: I could either stay out on deck with gang of brutal pirates, or I could follow their captain. Looking at the unkempt men around me who were itching to throw me off the side of the ship, I made my decision. I scurried after Hook and burst through the doors loudly. They shut behind me with a bang.

Stepping forward hesitantly, I surveyed the room. It was spacious, furnished with a large desk and chairs. The desk was covered with maps and endless pages of illegible writing. A long, cushioned bench travelled the length of the far wall, allowing the person sitting on it to look out through the window at the water behind the ship. Large, heavy cupboards were bolted to the wall. Seemingly useless looking objects were situated around the room. A miniature wooden statue of a monkey sat atop the cupboards. Beaded necklaces were hung over the doorhandles, reminding me of the Indians. What looked to be grass skirt was thrown on the floor in the closest corner. Why a pirate would own a grass skirt was beyond me.

Hook turned to face me, standing in the middle of the room with his arms crossed over his chest. "Who are you?" he asked bluntly, getting straight to the point. He surveyed me with green eyes that showed his barely controlled anger. It was painstakingly obvious that he didn't think kindly of his mother and half-sister, not that I was actually either one.

Trying to keep my face blank, I replied not unkindly, "I told you who I am. I'm Harper Callington, your half-sister." I was positive that that wasn't the girl's real name, but seeing as Hook had never met her, it seemed safe to use.

Hook's jaw tightened as his eyes took in my thin, almost insect-like frame with disgust. Just when I thought he was going to speak, Hook turned and walked away quickly. He strode over to stand in front of the bench seat, starring out of the window for a few moments.

"You're no sister of mine," he spat, refusing to even look at me. His words were cold and final. I was glad that it was me standing here, not his actually sister, because his words would have cut deep. "You're just the product of a dirty affair." If John had ever talked to me like this, I most likely would have cried. Luckily, this man in front of me wasn't of any actual relation. I just had to make him think that he was.

"And you think that is my fault?" I asked.

He didn't reply.

"I had no control over being conceive," I continued. I felt a strong desire to stand up for the girl I didn't even know. No one deserved to be talked to like that. "If anyone deserves your anger it would be our mother and the father I don't even know, Johnathan."

He head jerked around quickly, and eyes that held barely controlled hatred pierced mine. "Don't call me that," Hook snapped. I flinched back involuntarily at his tone. "And, trust me, I'm pretty pissed off at Mum too. She's the reason I left in the first place. That whore disgraced our whole family."

"That _whore_ is your mother," I said heatedly. I couldn't ever imagine talking about my mother the way Hook did about his. By the vulgar was he talked, it was obvious that he hadn't been raised with a woman's touch. In fact, he had been motherless for most of his life. I felt a tinge of sadness for the man in front of me as I realised this.

"Why are you even here?" he asked.

"I wanted to meet you. I thought that you would at least like to meet me too."

"And why would I want to do that?" he said coldly. Hook's face was a hard mask, but his eyes were different. They showed an eleven year old boy who had left his mother, ashamed and incredibly enraged by her actions. Despite what he wanted me to think, Hook had also been hurt. He had been hurt a lot. I felt pity for him, then I remembered that he was the monster that had kidnapped Peter and the boys.

"Because," I started, do my best to read the emotion playing in his eyes. "You have always wanted to know who the baby in your mum's belly was." I took a step closer towards him. He didn't back away in disgust like I presumed he would. I took that as a good sign. "All these years that you have been in Neverland, never aging, never growing older, you thought about us. You thought about Mother and I a lot."

His expression wavered slightly. "I…" He trailed off, at a loss for words.

"You've wondered what it's still like back home." I took another step closer. "You've wondered how Mother is. You've even wondered about me."

Hook paled visibly. "What do you know?" he said roughly, looking entirely unsettled.

"More than you think," I said.

He shook his head in either disbelief or confusion. Hook turned and padded over to the desk and dropped down into the chair. He looked through me as he gestured to the seat across from him. Hesitantly, I walked over and sat opposite Hook.

He stared at me for a long, hard moment and I fought the urge to fidget. "How did you get here?" Hook finally asked.

Good question.

I took a deep breath before talking. Thankfully, I had had plenty of time while walking around the island to rehearse my life story. I just hoped he bought it. "As soon as I turned eighteen, I caught the first ship out of Lawton." The lie easily slipped off of my tongue.

"Mother let you leave?" he asked, skeptical.

"I was over eighteen," I countered. "There wasn't much that she could do."

Hook nodded curtly and his eyes studied my face with unwavering focus, but he didn't comment. I took his silence as a sign to continue.

"She wasn't happy when I told her that I was leaving. Mother didn't want me to go after you alone. She said that you wouldn't be exactly the most welcoming of hosts." Hook let out a short, harsh laugh, and I couldn't stop the corners of my lips turning up. It was the understatement of the week. "She wanted to come with me, but, well…she couldn't afford to lose her job. It's not like we were raking in the money."

I felt a tinge of sadness for the unknown woman who had lost her son. Surely, she must miss his terribly. Judging by the emotion that played across his face when mentioned the woman, I can only guess that Hook missed her too.

I cast the thought aside, clearing my head. "Anyway, the ship docked at the closest kingdom. It was ginormous. I didn't have a clue where you were so I asked around, trying to see if anyone knew of a Johnathan Callington." His jaw tightened at the name. "It wasn't the most effective method of finding you, but it was all that I had. For four months, I travelled and heared nothing about you."

"Did you ever think that I didn't want to be found?"

His face was hard as my eyes locked with his. "Of course," I replied. "I'm not stupid, Johnathan. You left with your father for a reason. I knew that if I ended up finding you, you wouldn't be happy."

"Well, at least you aren't delusional," he said dryly.

"No, I have my head firmly screwed on, thank you very much." I tapped my head, emphasising my point.

His mouth twitched in amusement for a second before he schooled his expression, his face turning back to its stony mask.

"A few weeks ago, the cargo ship that I was traveling on stopped overnight at a small island, dropping off some of its good," I continued. "It was late and I stopped by at the local pub, looking for a meal. It wasn't long after when a group of drunk men burst through the door. They were carrying on about some pirates from the south who were flying under the Bloody Mary. That was your father's flag."

I looked at him pointedly, but all he did was stare back. The fingers on his remaining hand fiddled with the edge of a piece of paper that lay on the desk.

"I had to wait almost a week until a ship was heading out this way," I said. "The captain refused to dock on the island, something about it being nothing but trouble. The sailors wouldn't go anywhere near it. I'm not sure why. Anyway, they dumped me about a kilometre offshore on the other side of the island as they passed. It took me about a day to trek around to here. Then I found you," I finished, shrugging lightly.

Hook stared at me with a blank expression. I didn't know if he believed me or not. I prayed that he did.

"That's a lot of work to find someone who doesn't want to see you," he concluded.

"I decided a long time ago that it was worth it," I said simply.

_Believe me, believe me, believe me_, I silently begged. Hook rubbed his jaw and let out a deep breath. He seemed as though he didn't know what to think.

Hook stood abruptly, scraping his chair back loudly along the wooden floorboards. He looked down at me, confusion and emotional exhaustion etched into his face. "Look, you…you can stay in here tonight. The men won't bother you." He gave a curt nod, before striding towards the door. Hook ripped it open with enough force that I feared it was going to fall off the hinges. He went to leave but stopped. Turning to look at my briefly, he said, "I…I just need to think."

Without another word, he left. The door slammed shut behind him.

I almost felt bad for the anguish that I had caused him with my lies, but I cast that feeling away roughly as I thought of Peter.

He, the boys and Tink were somewhere on this ship, and as soon as the sun set, I was finding them and getting off this awful boat.

**I know, I know. This chappie had a lot of dialog but next one will have some action. Promise. Please leave a review and tell me what you think of Hook. I really want to know. Thanks for reading another chapter!**


	12. Chapter 11:Don't You Even Think About It

**Hey, guys! I'm so sorry about the really long time between updates! I was swamped by assignments but I'm on school holidays now so I will be able to update more! Yay! A big special thanks goes to my new betta: travellorslover! You rock! **

**hope you like next chappie!**

**Chapter Eleven: Don't You Even Think About It**  
**Wendy's POV**

The sun had set some time ago, ending another day in Neverland. My backside was numb from sitting on the bench beside the window for the last two hours. Hook hadn't returned since he had all but ran out of the room some time earlier. I was pretty confident that he had bought my lies. Before he had left, he had looked utterly unnerved. I took that as a good sign.

Maybe he was somewhere rethinking all of his past actions. Maybe he has seen the error of his ways. Maybe he is going to burst through the doors, telling me that he is leaving to return home to his mother, and that the boys and I were free to leave. Or, maybe his is already preparing the plank for me to walk off.

Yeah, that's more like it.

Being the nosey person that I was, I had spent a great deal of my time rummaging through Hook's draws. A mountain of papers and maps, a few gems, an empty leather bound journal and a bag of gold coins were all that I had been able to find. Nothing interesting, if you ask me.

I looked out of the window and saw nothing but darkness. Black clouds covered the moon, blocking its light. I hadn't heard any signs of life for over half an hour. Not being able to sit here a minute longer, I stood. I had a job to do: I needed to find the boys and get us off this ship. I quickly walked over to the door and gripped the handle. Trying to be as silent as possible, I opened the door a fraction. I looked though the gap and saw a sliver of the deck. No sudden noise hit me. Deeming it safe, I opened the door more until I was able to stick my head out. I was surprised to find myself completely alone.  
I stepped out hesitantly onto the dimly lit deck. A gas lamp to my right flickered. The only noise was the creaking of timber as the ship rocked gently in the waves. My eyes landed on an open wooden hatch that sat in the middle of the deck. I walked over quickly, keeping my steps as light as possible. I was terrified that a mob of pirates were going to burst onto the deck at any moment, guns blazing.

I stood over the hatch, looking down at it uneasily. A rickety-looking wooden ladder lead down into blackness. Swallowing the growing urge to retreat back to the safety of the Captain's study, I slowly descended down the ladder. I winced as it creaked loudly under my weight. My bare feet touched the thin, wooden floorboards below deck. Small lanterns sat suspended on the walls, lighting a narrow hallway that was thankfully empty.

I didn't want to walk down it. I wanted to scurry up the ladder as fast as I possibly could and run to the safety of Hook's cabin. No, scratch that, I wanted to be home with my family.

But I wasn't.

I was on some god-damned pirate ship that was captained by an emotionally scarred man who was hell-bent on making Peter and the Lost Boys suffer. I wasn't one for swearing, but even I had to admit that this situation was a fucking mess.

Knowing I was out of options, I summoned the last of my courage and made my way down the dimly lit corridor that could possibly lead me to a den of bloodthirsty pirates. Whatever happened, I knew one thing: this would make an amazing story to tell John...if I ever made it home.

**-X-X-X-**

**Peter's POV**

My eyelids threatened to close as my eyes picked up on a light tapping against the wooden flooring.

Not again, I grumbled internally. Why couldn't those pirates piss off and leave us alone for two minutes.

I forced my eyes to stay open and rubbed at my face. Curly mumbled something into the side of my shirt, fast asleep. A few hours ago, he had curled up beside me and had been out like a light. The little guy was absolutely shattered. I guess getting kidnapped and nearly killed could knock you around a bit.

"Boys?" someone down the hall whispered quietly, almost inaudibly.

My head turned to face the shadowed corridor, expecting to see someone standing there. Nibs, who had been lying on his back in the middle of the cell and was the only member of the Lost Boys who was awake, pushed himself into a sitting position. He looked at me, noiselessly checking to see if I had heard the sound also. We sat and listened in silence. After a long moment, no noise hit out ears, making me question our hearing. Nibs' eyebrows pulled together and, perplexed, he slowly slunk back down onto the floor.

Yep, we were officially hearing voices that weren't there. Was this stage one or stage two of going insane?

I closed my eyes and let out a gust of air. I really wanted to get out of this cell. It didn't look like a possibility for the near future so I let me head loll back against the wall, getting comfy.

"Peter?"

My eyes shot open. Okay, I definitely hadn't imagined the voice this time.  
Nib's head rolled over and he looked at me with a startled expression. "It sounds like-"

"Wendy," I finished for him, a sinking feeling forming in my stomach. Since overhearing the pirates, I had a bad feeling that Wendy was on the ship. I prayed that she wasn't. Surely she wasn't that stupid!

My heart in my throat, I jumped to my feet, momentarily forgetting about poor Curly who was snuggled against me. He flopped over onto his side, stirred and grumbled in his sleep, but thankfully didn't wake. I strode over to the bars of the cell and gripped them tightly, peering down the dark hallway. A gas lamp screwed into the wall beside the cell only gave of minimal light, barely doing anything at all.

"Hello?" I called out, trying to keep my voice relatively quiet. I didn't want to wake up an unfriendly pirate now, did I?

It was quiet for a moment before footsteps pounded against the wooden floor as a person rushed towards us. Wendy broke through into the dull light a moment later, looking completely frazzled. "Peter!" she exclaimed, throwing herself at the bars.

Her hands reached through to fist themselves tightly in the front of my shirt, and I was jerked forward. Nibs stood instantly and was by my side in a second. I took no notice, focusing solely on Wendy. She stood less than a foot away, eyeing me with wide, almost frantic eyes. I was both relieved and terrified to see her. Large, purple circles had formed under her eyes, and her face was washed out and pale.

"Wendy?" Nibs said in disbelief.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I snapped without thinking, my stomach dropping to my feet. My hands reached through the bars to grip both sides of her face. She was here; she was actually on board the ship. I didn't know whether I wanted to kiss her or kill her. "I told you to stay at the hideout."

"I know, but some good that would have done. You could have been dead for all I knew," she exclaimed worriedly, her face paling at the thought. Wendy's eyes flickered around the cell, taking everything in. She gave Nibs a tight, worried smile that looked more like a grimace. Her eyes returned to look at my face. They quickly zeroed in on the bruise that took up a large portion of my face. "Are you alright? You look terrible."

I let out a short snort. I sure as hell felt terrible. "I'm fine," I said. "We all are. How did you even get on the ship?"

Wendy shook her head. "It doesn't matter right now. We need to get you all out of here."

"How?" Blinky said, looking at the huge, sturdy lock on the door that kept us trapped.

Wendy released my shirt and stepped backward. My hands fell from her face. "Can we kick the lock in?" She asked, her expression doubtful.

"Tried it. Nothing will open it except a set of keys…which we don't have," I said, uselessly stating the obvious.

Wendy bit down on her bottom lip, looking thoughtful. Looking at her, a funny feeling that I have never experienced before bubbled in my stomach. It felt like nerves, but also butterflies...

What the fuck was I saying? I was starting to sound like a completely girl.

"Have you seen Tink?" I asked, ignoring the weird sensation.

Wendy shook her head sadly. "No, I haven't. I was going that she would have been with you."

My mouth tightened in worry. Earlier, Nibs had informed me that she had been taken below deck as soon as the boys had been dragged aboard the ship. Tink hadn't been seen since.

Nibs kicked at the steel bars in frustration. "No doubt that bastard has her locked up somewhere," he spat angrily, referring to Hook.

It was easy to tell that he was beating himself up about not being able to stop the pirates from taking her away, from not being able to protect the boys. It want his fault in the slightest. If it was anyone's, it was mine. I should have been shouldn't have been alone when the Hideout exploded. It wasn't Nibs' job to look after us all. God, he was barely fourteen, only a kid.

"We need to keys," he said, sounding defeated, looking at the floor as he spoke. Poor guy. I wanted to pat him on the back or offer some comforting gesture, but I held back, doubtful that he would appreciate it.

"What if I were to go get them?" Wendy suggested, causing my head to jerk around to look at her.

"No," I said instantly, shaking my head. "No way in hell." There was no chance that I was allowing Wendy to go and try steal a set of keys off a bunch of bloodthirsty pirates. "It's too dangerous."

"It's not," Wendy insisted. She stepped closer toward the bars until her face was only a few inches away from mine. "You would do it."

My eyes narrowed at her stubborn behaviour. She couldn't be seriously considering going after the keys. "That's not the point. You could get hurt."

She scoffed. "Have a little faith," Wendy said dryly. I could practically see the wheels turning in her head as she thought whatever 'plan' of hers that she was forming.

"What if they see you?" I asked, desperately trying to make her see sense.

"They all know that I'm here, Peter. They were the ones who brought me on-board."

"How come you aren't locked up like us?" Nibs interrupted.

Wendy bit the inside of her cheek in a nervous gesture. "I sort of told Hook that I was his sister," she mumbled quickly, her words running together.

"What?" Nibs and I exclaimed at the same time. That definitely wasn't the answer I was expecting.

"What the hell, Wendy." I stared at her in shock. Was she serious? Wendy gave a small shrug. "And he bought it."

She nodded slightly, looking timid. "Yeah, I think he did."

Nibs blew out a large gust of air before chuckling. "So, with the help of a few lies, you managed to bamboozle Hook into thinking that you were some long-lost relation. Jeez, he must be even dumber than Blinky."

I couldn't help but grin. Wendy laugh, although she said: "Don't be mean. And I can be a pretty good actor."

"You're right," Nibs agreed, humouring her. "You could defiantly make the big times."

"I was born for the screen," she teased. I shook my head at both of them, the corners of my mouth twitching up. "Anyway, back to getting you out of here," Wendy said, her grin fading. "I'm going to find the key."

My slightly lighter mood instantly darkened again. "I already told you no. It's too dangerous." Her eyes narrowed, but I didn't care. She could glare all she wanted, but that wouldn't change my mind. She wasn't going.

"It's not up to you," she said, her voice starting to show slight annoyance. Wendy eyed the bars between us. "And if you haven't noticed, you aren't exactly in a position to stop me."

My eyes widened in shock and I saw her own spark with defiance. My arm shot out through the bars to grab her but she jerked out of reach. "Wendy," I warned. "Don't you even think about it."

She took a step back, shaking her head.

"I mean it."

"So do I," Wendy said, taking another step back. "It's not like there is any other option."

I could see her point, but I didn't want her going. She could easily get hurt. What if they catch her snooping? They'll kill her. I began to panic as a hundred possible situations raced through my head. "For fuck's sake, Wendy. Don't you dare," I barked.

"I'll be back shortly," Wendy said. Before I could do anything, she turned and retreated back down the dark hallway.

"Wendy, come back!" I yelled after her.

She didn't.

Of course she fucking didn't.

**I was wondering what everyone's fav POV was? I'll make sure to include the favourite one in the next chappie! :)!**


	13. Chapter 12: Home Hearts Hurting

**This chapter is dedicated to my beta: travellerslover. She is truly incredible and has helped me improve this chapter greatly! I was quiye hesitant about getting a beta but now I realise that it was one of the best decisions I could ever make involving this story. Thank you so much, Rach! **

**P.S. You all should go check out her stories. They are really** **great! ;D**

**Chapter Twelve: Home Hearts Hurting**

**John's POV**

I opened the door of the bedroom and stepped inside, clutching Mother's dinner plate in one hand. She didn't even look up from her position on the bed as I shut the door and walked across the room to stand beside her. All of the bedroom lights were on; they had been ever since Wendy had left with Peter. I think that it was Mother's way of making sure Wendy would be able to find the house again when she returned, twinkling little lamps that could, much like the lights lining the runway for an airplane landing, could illuminate the path that led her safely home.

She stared out the window vacantly. A novel rested beside her, clearly forgotten. Mother looked older than she had previously - even worse than she did when Wendy was slowly dying in her bed. Once unnoticeable grey hairs had become so prominent that they shown almost incandescent against her dull, chestnut hair. Her face was constantly pinched tight, causing the lines of her face to deepen around her mouth and forehead. Mother's eyes were what killed me. The bright blue of her irises had been reduced to a dull, lifeless grey. Their depths held signs of a deep, heartbreaking pain only a mother could feel, the pain of having lost a child.

It had always been like that. When one of us was hurt, Mother was hurt. When one of us was happy, Mother was happy. She had always felt everything that Michael, Wendy and I had felt. Whatever one of us was going through, Mother was right there next to us, experiencing the exact same thing. I guess one could chalk it up to it being the unconditional love of a mother, but it somehow went deeper than love and became more meaningful than her irrevocable empathy.

"Dinner's ready," I said, my voice breaking the silence harshly, causing even myself to wince.

Mother only nodded, still not taking her eyes off the window. It was a starry night out and the wind was blowing, flicking the curtains back and forth. The noises from the light, evening traffic below made its way into the second-story room, creating a soft white noise that made the silence between them all the more deafening. Wordlessly, I walked over and sat the plate on the side table next to the bed where it would be left untouched, just like her other meals.

"Thank you, John," she said quietly, looking at me for the first time since I had entered the room.

I nodded, taking a seat next to her on the bed, reaching out to grip one of her hands tightly. Her fingers trembled slightly in the palm of my hand and I found myself wanting to say something, anything, that could ease Mother's pain, but the words escaped me. Instead, we sat in a tense, but natural silence.

After a few moments, Mother inhaled deeply, her breath ragged, shoulders shaking. "What is it like?" she asked, a somber tremor lining her words. Her hand tightened around mine, gripping it like a lifeline.

I knew instantly what she was referring to: Neverland.

Since Wendy had left and our parents learnt the truth about Peter, we hadn't brought up the subject again. It had become taboo within the household. Even Michael didn't bring up Peter. Mother avoided it like the plague. I guess it was hard for her to face the fact that her sick daughter had been taken away from her to some strange island, even if it was for her wellbeing.

Now, there was a desperation in Mother's face that hadn't been there before, or at least that she hadn't revealed before. She needed to know.

I thought for a moment, choosing my words carefully. "It's unlike anything that you could ever imagine." Mother's eyes were fixed on my face, and I knew that I had her full, undivided attention for the first time in months. "The sand on the beach is white and the water is so clear that you can see the bottom of the ocean. The island is covered in thick forest with trees that are over thirty meters tall. There are Indians and mermaids and even fairies," I said, deciding to leave out the pirates. I doubt that knowledge would ease Mother's worry. "The whole place is crazy and beautiful at the same time."

Mother nodded, her eyebrows knitting together as she tried to imagine the place I was describing. "And this Peter boy? What is he like?"

"Oh, he's quite possibly insane," I answered. I couldn't stop my lips from turning up slightly in a dry smile as I thought of all the wild situations that he had gotten into during his younger years. Mother, on the other hand, stilled. Her expression instantly clouded over with worry.

"What?!" she exclaimed. Her hand tightened on mine until I was sure that she was cutting off the circulation. Her nails bit into my skin painfully, no doubt leaving tiny crescent moons imprinted on my hand.

"Not literally," I rushed on to say. "He just has a knack for getting in and out of some pretty crazy situations. He's not nuts, I promise." My words did little to calm my mother, and I felt like kicking myself. I was trying to calm her, not send her into a state of panic.

Mother studied my expression for a long, hard moment, checking for my sincerity. Slowly, she nodded, looking anything but convinced. "And he will look after her?"

"Nothing will happen to Wendy," I reassured her with utmost sincerity.

Mother looked away from me to stare out the window once more. "How do you know that?" she whispered, her throat closing up. My heart broke as a tear leaked from her eye and rolled down her cheek. There was nothing that hurt me more than seeing this woman cry.

"Because," I sighed softly, "he's in love with her. He always has been. Peter won't let anything touch her."

She sniffled loudly. "I'm not sure I like this," Mother chocked out. She tried to sound like she was joking but failed miserably. "Wendy being stuck on an island by herself with a boy who likes her."

"Just don't tell Dad," I said, my mouth curling up into a sad smile. "He'll freak."

Mother let out a laugh that quickly turned into a broken sob. Tears began to stream down her face as she cried out in absolute agony. The sound sent a rush of indescribable pain splintering though my chest. Her face contorted into a mask of anguish. Mother threw herself into my arms and I did the only thing that I could: I hugged her tightly as fell even more apart.

"I want my daughter back," she choked out, gripping the front of my shirt tightly. Her entire body shook as sob after sob wracked her chest. I shut my eyes when I felt the prickling sensation of unshed tears, but I refused to cry in front of Mother; she needed me to be the strong one.

"I know," I replied quietly. "I know."

Once again, that feeling of hopelessness I had done a good job suppressing was starting to creep back in. I had thought that once Peter had taken Wendy, I would start to feel some relief…feel like we were finally accomplishing something. I had been wrong. Just like before, I felt completely and utterly useless. I couldn't help Wendy's condition; it was out of my hands. It was now up to her and Peter.

The only thing that I could do was sit back and pray; pray that she was okay; pray that they found a cure; pray that I saw my sister again.

**Wendy's POV**

As I creeped noiselessly below the ship's deck, I couldn't help but wonder if any other girls my age had ever realised just how terrifying the entire ordeal truly was. Crawling around a pirate-invested ship in the dead of night with nothing but your wits to protect you...

I padded down the abandoned hallway softly but quickly, my entire body on edge. My heart was beating rapidly in my chest, and not from my illness, but from pure, unadulterated fear.

My heart seemed to be allowing me to move more without getting winded as easily. It felt as though my condition was improving somehow, if that was even possible. I wasn't sure if it was actually happening or just wishful thinking and the adrenaline burning through my blood.

Scattered lamps that had been screwed roughly into the walls were the only source of light. The sound of a floorboard creaking under pressure resonated loudly in the silence of the hall, and the noise had not been caused by me. I whirled around, staring back down the way I had come. My body flushed cold with terror. No one was standing behind me, and I was able to let out a relieved breath, although my body was still coiled tightly and the speed of my breaths had quickened drastically.

I turned back around and let out a scream and jumped about a foot into the air. In front of me stood a person who had not been there seconds before. A hand clamped down on my mouth, muffling the noise. Panicked, I bit down on their hand, causing the person to cry out in pain.

"Jesus!" someone exclaimed loudly, stumbling back. The voice belonged to none other than Captain Johnathon Callington. He shook the hand that I had just bit, looking at me with a taken aback expression. Strands of his hair were stuck to his forehead and cheeks, and the front of his shirt was plastered to his chest. Droplets of water rolled down his arms. He was completely soaked.

"Nope," I somehow managed to gasp out once I started to recover from the shock.

"What are you doing wandering around my ship?" Hook asked, an almost angry edge to his tone. He pushed the hair on his forehead back, causing it stand up at the front. Some of the disdain that he felt toward me was missing in his eyes as he stared down at me. It seemed to have been replaced by confusion… or was it mild concern? Whatever emotion it was, it was gone in an instant as his face transformed into a smooth mask of careful indifference.

"I…I was looking for you," I lied.

"Why?" He asked, raising a thin, black eyebrow.

Good question. "I'm starved," I said. It wasn't a lie. I hadn't eaten anything in over a day and I was completely famished. To punctuate my point, my stomach growled loudly.

Hook's eyes scanned over me quickly. "You sure look it." He turned, and without looking back, started walking down the hallway. "Come on."

I followed after him, having to walk quickly to keep up with his long-legged strides. His wet clothes left a trail of water on the floor behind him, but he didn't seem to care. Hook led me down to the end of the corridor and turned left into yet another passage. The ship was starting to feel like a labyrinth. This time, doors lined the hallway, most likely leading to rooms for the rest of the crew.

"You know," Hook said after a few minutes of walking in silence. "It's not smart to be walking around here by yourself. You're lucky you ran into me and not one of the other men."

"I know," I replied, meaning it.

God only knows what could have happened if I had ran into another member of the crew, like one of the men who were shouting to send me off the plank. One thing was for sure though: it wouldn't have ended well. This only reminded me of why Peter had been so adamant about me not going.

"Why are you dripping wet?" I asked, my own curiosity getting the better of me.

Hook looked down at his clothes then back at me. "I went for a swim," he said, appearing surprised at my sudden question.

"A swim? In the ocean?" I asked stupidly before I could stop myself. Personally, I hated the ocean. Its endless black depths scared the crap out of me. I couldn't stand the fact that, while swimming, I was oblivious to what was lurking only meters below.

The corner of his lips tipped upwards, making his face appear friendlier. "No, in the pool out back," he replied sarcastically.

I rolled my eyes, mainly at my stupid question. "But aren't sharks out at night?" I continued. "Aren't you scared of being attacked?"

"Sharks are out at all times of the day. They aren't nocturnal," he said, looking mildly amused. "As for being scared, I've been swimming in the ocean my entire life and haven't been attacked by a shark. I have a better chance of dying by accidentally stabbing myself with a knife while in the kitchen."

I couldn't stop myself from snorting at the ridiculous, anticlimactic way to die. Hook looked over at me and his lips spread into a full grin, flashing a view of his pearly white teeth. When he smiled, it made him look younger, more human; he didn't look like the ruthless pirate who had a list of sins as long as I was tall. The thought sobered me, reminding me of who he really was. My laughter died off instantly. He wasn't a young man who swam in the ocean and made funny, stupid comments. He was a savage who had my friends held captive in a cell only a few corridors away. Hook sensed my change in mood and, in turn, his smile faded. He looked away from me, his focus fixed ahead. We fell into a heavy silence, the soft tapping of incongruent footsteps the only sounds between them.

"Why'd you go for a swim?" I asked after a moment, wanting to end the crushing quietness.

Hook gave me a heavy, sidelong glance. I could just barely make out the contemplative look in his eyes beneath dim lighting. "It helps me clear my head," he said, looking away from me. It was obvious that he was thinking about our first encounter some hours ago. So was I. In fact, it had been in the back of my mind since I had ran into him.

Hook reached up and rubbed a hand along his lightly stubbled jaw in what appeared to be a slightly nervous gesture. The fact that he was nervous around me was astounding. I was just a sick, tiny young girl. He, on the other hand, had power over a whole crew of men and would no doubt be able to kill me with his bare hands. His apprehension only served as a reminder that Hook was indeed very much human. I wasn't sure if the knowledge scared or empowered me.

Thankfully, the hallway ended, meaning that I didn't have to come up with a response for this completely puzzling pirate. Hook walked through a wide doorframe, leading us into a large room. Unlike the hallway, the room was well lit, having multiple bright lamps positioned strategically around the space. A heavy, wooden table sat in the middle room. It was an impossibly long table, able to seat over thirty people easily. Each steel chair at the table was neatly tucked away. Down one end of the room sat a kitchen with wide benches, multiple cupboards, and a small sink. No dirty pots and pans littered the bench tops, and all equipment was packed away and out of sight. Even the dishes and a frying pan were washed and drying on the rack next to the sink. Everything about the room was neat and tidy, complete contradicting the stereotype of a typical pirate.

Hook walked directly to the kitchen and opened one of the top cabinet's doors. High towers of plates were stacked in neat piles. He pulled out a small china saucer and placed it down on the bench. Walking over to the other side of the kitchen, he stopped in front of a cupboard that stretched from floor to ceiling. Opening the door to reveal shelves full of packeted and canned food, Hook looked over his shoulder back at me.

"What do you feel like?" he asked, not unkindly.

"Umm…I dunno."

Feeling a bit taken aback by his manners, I walked over to peer into the cupboard. He stepped back, allowing me more room. Feeling his eyes on me, I nervously began sorting through the contents in front on me. There were tins of beans and fruit, and other long-life products, such as canned meats. I was shocked to see such normal food.

"Pirates drink orange juice?" I inquired as I pulled out the warm, unopened carton.

"Among other things," Hook replied as I turned over to look at him, my eyebrows raised. He was leaning casually against the bench. He would have looked a picture of ease if I didn't notice how his hands tightly gripped the edge, his knuckles turning white. "Why? What did you think we drank?"

I shrugged as I turned to return the juice to its place on one of the shelves. "I don't know. Rum. The blood of virgins."

Hook let out a scoff. "We're pirates, not cannibals."

I didn't reply as my hand landed on a tin of spaghetti. Deciding to go with it, I grabbed it and walked back over to the plate the Hook had taken out of the cupboard. I pulled back the lid and dumped the contents out.

"Thank you," I said as Hook stepped forward, took the tin from my hands, and threw it away into a bin that was located in the cabinet under the sink. He opened the top drawer to his right and pulled out a fork, handing it to me. Silently, Hook walked over to the table and grasped one of the many chairs, pulling it out with a loud scrape before seating himself comfortably. I wasn't sure whether to stay put or walk forward, but the decision was made for me when he looked up gestured to the seat across from him.

I walked over nervously and sat my plate down on the table. As I pulled out the chair opposite to Hook, out of habit, I made sure not to scrape the floor. It was something that my mother would have undoubtedly chided me for doing. For as long as I could remember, she had drilled it into us to avoid making such racket at the table. I picked up my fork and slowly stabbed it into my pile of tinned spaghetti. Hook watched me as I took a bite, and I felt myself grow nervous beneath his scrutiny. He looked away quickly when I met his gaze.

Clearing his throat, he reached into one of the pockets on his pants. "I have something for you," he said hesitantly, looking extremely uncomfortable.

Hook withdrew his hand and dropped the contents on the table in front of him. A heart-shaped golden locket was among the items deposited. It was attached to a thin, delicate chain. On top of the locket, engraved in a small, cursive script, were the initials M.C. A wedding ring also accompanied first piece of jewellery. It was of simple design. One large diamond rested in the band. It reflected the light from around the room, seeming to shine with an ethereal, orange glow.

"They were our mother's," Hook said quietly. He refused to look at me as he pushed the two items of jewellery towards me.

I barely heard Hook speak. My eyes stared fixedly at the third and final item that had been removed from his pocket. Less than a foot away from me sat a metal key-ring that held no less than five rusty keys.

**Thank you also to everyone who reads/review/ follows this story. You positive feedback had been amazing and I absolutely love reading your reviews and heating what you think about each chapter**!


	14. Chapter 13: Loose Lips Sink Ships

**Next chapter is finally up! Thanks again to my beta! you're awesome. Hope you all like this next chappie. Please tell me what you all think :D**

**Chapter Thirteen: Loose Lips Sink Ships**

**Wendy's POV**

I reached out and picked up the two pieces of jewellery as Hook watched me with unnerving focus. His cold and calculating eyes seemed to be judging my expression. I fought to keep my face as neutral as possible, because on the inside, I was screaming at the mere sight of the keys I so desperately wanted in my possession. Keys that were once again buried in to depths of Hook's pocket. I was positive that one of them would open the lock on Peter's cell. Why else would Hook be keeping them so close? The only problem was that I now had to somehow get them off of him.

The jewellery was cold to the touch, and looked so fragile sitting in my open palm. My thumb brushed over the face of the locket, right over the engraved initials of M.C. It really was a beautiful piece. They all were. "Why are you giving these to me?" I asked, confused, as I looked back up at Hook.

He stared back at me coolly, a purposeful blank expression settled onto his features, concealing any would-be emotions from surfacing. It was a skill of his that I had quickly noticed. "I don't want them anymore," he stated simply. His words carried finality, as though he thought this short, clipped reply was enough to answer all of my unspoken questions.

I picked up the ring and brought it closer to my face. The small, singular diamond set in the middle of the golden band was a princess cut and shone brightly, glittering even in the dull lighting. Despite its simplicity, it was lovely. It had obviously sat on the hand of the woman who I was pretending was my mother. It was weird holding pieces of her jewellery that had been given to me. It felt as though I was stealing from her. In a way, I guess I was.

Not wanting to give Hook a reason to doubt my identity, I threaded the ring onto the chain of the locket and fastened it around my neck. My stumpy fingers and lack of long nails made it quite difficult, but after a moment, the locket settled against the base of my throat. My hand came up to clasp the cool surface as I directed my gaze back to Hook's stony face. "Why did you have these?"

His expression didn't change at my question, clearly expecting it. "I took these when I left." Hook's tone was that of a doctor: unemotional and detached. It completely masked the pain that had peeked through the cracks of his facade during our last conversation about his family. His arms rested in front of him on the table. It was obvious that he was trying to look at ease, but his locked jaw and tense shoulders diminished his efforts. Right now, Hook was wound tighter than a spring. I was half expecting him to snap at any moment. I couldn't help but eye the hook protruding from his left hand warily.

"I'm guess that your father gave these to our mother," I stated, rather than asked.

Hook gave a sharp nod, although I wasn't looking for an answer.

"Why did you take then, then?" I asked, despite knowing that he wanted nothing more than to discontinue the conversation. But, I wasn't going to let him. For some reason, I wanted to know more about the man in front of me, and understand what possessed him to do the things that he had done.

Hook released a breath of air as he thought about my question. By the look on his face, it was obvious that no one had asked him before. "I…I don't know," he finally said, sounding just as perplexed as I felt. "I was young, I guess."

"Did you want to take something of hers with you?" I could never possibly imagine leaving my mother behind, so I had no idea what Hook must have been going through. I could only try to imagine what must have been passing through his young mind.

His good hand reached up to rub the side of his face as his eyes zeroed in on the locket hanging around my neck. His eyes flickered to my face before darting away quickly. "I took the things because I was angry," he admitted softly. The words were hesitant, as if they were just being spoken aloud for the first time now. "I thought that she didn't deserve them anymore…at least not the wedding ring."

He lowered his eyes to the table, his got gaze burning holes into the polished finish. He almost looked ashamed. Pity formed in my chest as I looked at him. After years, Hooks was still deeply affected by the hurt his mother had caused him. I knew it must be absolutely awful to have your family literally torn in half at such a young age. At any age, really.

In some way, I understood where Hook was coming from. His parents' marriage had ended terribly because of an affair. Of course Hook would have felt betrayed by his mother. He had every right to. I guess it was only natural for him to feel as though his mother is not worthy of wearing a wedding ring.

Hook let out a short, sharp laugh that held no trace of humour whatsoever. "I guess I was a thief even back then." His words were full of anger and betrayal, although I couldn't tell whether they were directed at himself or his mother.

"It wasn't stealing," I said. "You gave them back…kind of." My mouth twitched up into a forced smile. For some reason, I wanted to try ease some of Hook's pain, which was absurd. I was on his ship for one reason, and one reason alone: to save my friends. I wasn't here to ease his conscious.

But, still…I couldn't stop myself from wanting to.

Hook lifted his head and his eyes met mine. "I guess." He tried to return my small smile but looked to be in pain more than anything.

We lapsed into a natural silence, neither of us having anything more to say. I took it as an opportunity to pick up my fork and finish my plate of tinned spaghetti. Hook, on the other hand, chewed on the inside of his lip as his eyes scanned around the room, returning regularly to settle on me. He appeared to be waging an internal battle. I only hoped that whatever was bothering him didn't involve something horrible.

Once my stomach was full and my plate was clear, I stood from the table and walked over to the small sink. I placed my saucer down beside the drying plates and frypan, and turned around as I heard Hook's chair scrape loudly along the timber floorboards. He shoved his hands into his pants pockets as he took long, slow strides towards me. The action only reminded me of the dreaded set of keys hidden against his thigh.

He came to a stop about a few meters away from me, and let out a heavy sigh. The weight of the world resting on his shoulders could be heard in that sigh. "How is she?" he asked, his voice nothing above a whisper. I knew who he was referring to instantly: his mother…my supposed mother.

My eyes widened. It wasn't so much that I didn't expect the question, as to the fact that I knew absolutely nothing about his mother. For all I was aware of, she could be halfway to China. So, unable to answer his question truthfully, I did the next best thing.

I lied.

"She's fine," I said, not knowing whether that was true or not. Hook gave a small nod, his expression clouded. "She misses you though." I risked giving him a pointed look, hoping that my words wouldn't anger him like they had in our first encounter.

Instead, Hook seemed genuinely surprised. His eyes widened and his eyebrows rose. "Why?" he asked, his words brimming with curiosity.

My heart seized at his simple response. It was sad to think that he expected his mother not to miss him after he left. He had grown up thinking that his mother did not care for him or miss him in the slightest. In this moment, I felt only overwhelming pity for the man in front of me. His life had been marred by betrayal, heartbreak and loss.

"You're still her son, Jonathan. It is only natural for her to miss you." Something told me that this was true, despite never having met the woman.

He looked away and shrugged slightly, unsure of what make of my words. Blowing out a gust of air, he ran his remaining fingers through his black hair. I couldn't stop myself from staring at the hook that now sat in place of his left hand.

"How did that happen?" The words slipped out before I could stop myself, curiosity once again getting the better of me. I instantly chided myself for my lack of tact, just as Mother would have done.

Hook looked over at me, confusion clearly written on his face. It quickly changed into understanding as he followed my line of sight. Instinctively, his other hands reached out to touch the curved metal. "Some bastard cut it off," he said, bitterness lacing his words.

"Who?" I asked. Hook's hand had been severed off well before I had first met him, over five years ago. Despite this, I had never been told how, although I had my hunches. In my mind's eye, I pictured an auburn-haired boy wielding a dagger and fighting the man in front on me.

"He's just some feral who lives on the island." My eyes widened on their own accord as Hook confirmed my suspicion. "Don't worry," he rushed on to say, mistaking my surprise for fear. "You don't need to be concerned over him. He and his friends will be gone in a matter of days."

Gone, as in dead.

A cold feeling slid down my spine as he so dismissively regarded their lives, as if they were nothing more than rabid animals in need of being put down. His words immediately washed away all sympathetic feelings that I had held towards him only moments before. And that was my wake-up call.

Hook eyed me carefully, monitoring my expression. It was almost comical that he thought I would be scared of Peter when it was he who was the real monster.

Peter didn't blow up homes; he didn't injure innocents; he certainly didn't kidnap young children. He may have thieved, but only ever just enough to survive. No, I could never be scared of Peter. Ever.

"Is that why you are constantly after Peter? Is this some sort of revenge?"

Hook stilled and his eyes widened slightly in shock before narrowing. He regarded me with a suspicious expression, his face hardening. My breath caught in my throat as I realised my slip all too late.

"I never mentioned his name," Hook said slowly, his gaze focusing on mine.

He took a step towards me and I instantly took one backwards. My backside hit the kitchen bench in front of the drying rack, stopping me. My heart rate spiked as I began to panic.

"I…I know," I said, scrambling to find words. "I've just heard stories…tales, really, about this never-ending rivalry between your crew and a group of boys that lived here."

Hook didn't look convinced - not in the least. He took another large step forward, placing him directly in front of me. I, on the other hand, had nowhere to go. I was trapped between a hard place and a distrustful pirate. It wasn't a good position to be in.

"Really?" he drawled, raising a dark eyebrow in a gesture that was almost sardonic.

I nodded quickly and tried to fight down the lump that was forming in my throat. "Yes. Men on the ship that dropped me just offshore of the island were talking about it, sharing what they had heard over the years." The skin on my forehead broke out in a cold sweat under his unyielding gaze. I prayed that he couldn't see it in the less-than-perfect lighting.

He studied me quietly for a moment. His eyes were both calculating and severe, and yet his face gave away nothing. "Well, Harper," he finally said. The way he mordantly pronounced the name had my stomach dropping to my feet and my entire body tensing. Hook took one final step forward and lowered his head. His lips were next to my ear and I could feel his hot breath fanning my face as he whispered, "I don't believe you."

I gulped loudly as complete and utter fear coursed through my veins, freezing me in place.

** Thank you for reading my chapter and sticking with this story. Your reviews always make my day and inspire me to continue writing so please feel free to leave one. :D **


End file.
